


Something Akin to a Fairyale IV: The Sorcerer and the Sheildmaiden

by bluetoast



Category: Thor - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, BAMF Sif, Dragons, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Jötunn Loki, Laufey's Good Parenting, Loki is Not Amused, Loneliness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-05
Updated: 2015-10-21
Packaged: 2018-04-25 01:07:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 25,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4940845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluetoast/pseuds/bluetoast
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sif is tired of Thor ignoring her, despite her attempts to tell him how she feels. Loki is tired of being treated like he's helpless because he's small. When the two meet on a diplomatic trip to Jotunheim, Sif is thrilled to finally encounter a man who respects her warrior talents; Loki is just as happy to finally meet a woman who isn't only interested in him because of his title. Asgard is in shock that the daughter of one of the most powerful generals is in love with a runt jotun prince. Jotunheim, however, thinks the lovebirds are adorable.</p><p>Written for HC_Bingo - Invisibility</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Sif stared at herself in the mirror, trying to decide what, if anything, could be wrong with her appearance. She lifted her chin, doing her best not to think about the froth of lace on her gown that was almost big enough to completely hide her collarbone or the fact that she felt perfectly ridiculous in a gown in the first place. She held her arms demurely behind her back and tried to put on one of those smiles she'd seen other ladies of the court do, but promptly wrinkled her nose in disgust. If it wasn't for the stupid dress code for such formal events at the palace, she'd be content in her highly polished ceremonial armor right now. But here she was, dressed up in a gown and wearing under-linen that she swore weighed half of what her armor did, ready for an evening of acting like a lady.

It wasn't that she objected to acting like a girl, it was just that so many other women had to act like simpering idiots. 

“Sif, dear, it's time we were leaving.” Her mother's voice called and she resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Her mother always called her 'Sif dear' as if it were her given name. “Don't forget your gloves.”

“Yes, mother.” She replied, putting as much politeness into her voice as she could manage as she came down the corridor, tugging on the aforementioned gloves, wondering what the hell was the point of them anyway. She'd only have to take them off when she sat down to dinner and then replace them when it was time to dance. Riding sidesaddle made more sense than evening gloves, how could bare hands be seen as downright scandalous, but not gowns with plunging necklines or backs? Of course, they'd be good for slapping any man who got to 'friendly' she supposed, since the sheer mountain of skirt she was wearing would make kneeing a man in the groin difficult. 

“Oh, Sif dear, you chose to wear the green dress, I see.” Her mother looked her over, rather critically, then came over and adjusted something in her hair. “That's better.” 

She gave the woman a tight smile. “The blue one was a little too loose in the waist.” She lied, when in truth the blue gown her mother had originally told her to wear fit just fine; it just happened to have a huge rip in the skirt from her tripping over the hem when she put it on earlier. 

“Ah, here are my girls.” Her father's voice echoed from the end of the corridor. “Sif, you look beautiful.” He gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. “Although I know you'd rather be in your armor.” He then turned and gave her mother a kiss as well.

“Tyr, don't start on that.” she shook her head. 

“Astrid, let the girl be.” He replied as the woman pulled on her own gloves. “Our Sif has grown into quite the accomplished young woman.” He fairly beamed. “Quite frankly, I wouldn't want some silly girl whose only thoughts were of flirting with warriors and ordering a new frock for every day of the week.” 

“Yes, well, it wouldn't be so bad if Sif was that way _some_ of the time.” She gave Sif a tight smile of her own and then chuckled. “No, that wouldn't suit Sif dear in the slightest.” 

“Let's be off then. We shouldn't keep the coach waiting.” Tyr offered his arm to his wife and Sif followed behind them, wondering how far they would make it to the palace before Mother started on her whole 'you're not getting any younger' speech, which Father always tried to laugh off and state that she was still a little girl who had just given up dolls. Not that she'd played much with dolls when she was younger. 

Once they were all settled into the carriage and on their way, Sif silently reviewed her plan for the evening in her mind. She would wait until the dancing started before approaching Thor. He was always much more amiable after he'd eaten and had at least one tankard of mead. He also never started dancing in the first hour, unless it was with the Allmother. After that hour, it would be maiden's choice, so she would ask him to dance. Since she would be right there, no one could beat her to it. They'd have their dance, and then he would ask her for the next one – and she brought her thoughts to an abrupt end as they went over a rough cobblestone and it was enough to keep her from falling into some silly fairytale sort of ending to the evening. 

It wasn't as if she didn't _try_ to get Thor to notice her. It was difficult, however, for him to realize that she was a girl at times. His younger brother, Baldr, however, was always polite towards her. Then again, everyone loved the younger prince, he just had one of those types of personalities that drew people in and, surprisingly, he wasn't a jackass. There was also the fact that the majority of the population of Asgard thought she and Thor were perfect for one another – and if the gentle, kind and talented Prince Baldr was among them, (she never could tell what he thought about the matter) it was only a matter of time before Thor found out and confirmed it. 

How Baldr could be so humble when Thor could be so prideful at times, Sif had no idea.

When it all boiled down to it, Thor was... she shook her head to clear it.

“Are you unwell, Sif dear?” Astrid sounded worried and she gave her mother a shake of the head.

“I should have taken that nap you suggested.” She gave her a smile. “That's all. Or I just need to eat.” 

“Ah, leave the girl alone, Astrid.” Her father chuckled. “I suspect you'd rather be going to a tourney than a ball, am I right, Sif?”

She gave her father a grateful smile. “The trouble with tourneys, Papa, is that they never let me compete in the contests I want to.” 

He gave her a wink. “Quite unfair to you, but at the same time, I believe it's even more unfair to any man who thinks they can best you.” 

“This is why she doesn't have any suitors.” Mother shook her head. “Why you're taking her with you to Jotunheim next week, I do not know.”

“Jotunheim?” She sat up straight, surprised. An adventure already planned, and she hadn't known a thing about it. “When were you going to tell me?”

“I was going to tell you tomorrow morning.” Tyr gave his wife a look. “but I suppose now is as good a time as then. It's a small, diplomatic meeting. King Laufey is requesting permission to interact with Midgard. They seem to be having trouble with their weather. I don't quite understand it. Some of their 'experts' say that their realm is heating up, others say it's getting colder, and others say it's all a part of a cycle. Of course, the real issue is I can't exactly see Midgardians handling the appearance of giants all that well.” 

“Even less of said beings telling them what to do.” Sif countered. “From what I've read and heard, Midgardians are a stubborn lot.” 

“That they are.” He shook his head. “Not that I expect you to take part in much of the talks, Sif darling. I felt it would be good for you to get off-realm for a while.” 

She frowned. “What's that supposed to mean?”

“It means your father wants you to travel with someone besides Thor and those three warrior friends of his.” Her mother interjected, the disdainful look back on her face.

“They're my friends too.” She countered, and hated the whine that slipped into her tone. “I mean...”

“I know, ” Father interjected, “but the alternative is going to Vanaheim with your mother to see your aunt and cousins.” 

She paled at the idea. Her Vanir cousins were the most vapid and silly girls in the nine realms. “I'd rather spend a month in the Kiln.” 

Mother laughed. “Your cousins aren't _that_ bad Sif dear.” 

Instead of replying, she turned her focus out the window. The idea of Jotunheim was sounding better by the minute. She wasn't certain what she would be doing while she was there, but even if she just walked around the palace in Utgard, it had to be better than listening to her cousins twitter about princes and frocks.

**

Loki fell back on his bed and heaved a sigh. He hadn't wanted to come home from Alfheim at all. He'd been perfectly content to stay in their fine schools of magic, spending time in a library that was the size of the palace on Jotunheim – and everything was his size – and enjoying the company of a light-elf sorceress. Well, all right, the young woman had recently run off with some strapping Æsir warrior with more muscles than brains, but that was the light-elves for you; so tolerant of other beings until things became serious and somehow, warrior trumped prince. 

Third in line to the throne prince. From a realm with what some considered constant winter. It didn't matter that he could ply her with her own weight in gems and precious metals, what mattered was he wasn't some mighty warrior who looked ready to tear down a wall with his bare hands and be all... whatever it was that the girls saw in men like that. 

Being home meant being returned to his tower, where, while most of the things were his size, he still felt isolated from the rest of his family. The real issue was the fact that many of his people felt that his size meant he was not just small, but constantly sick. He was perfectly healthy, he just happened to reach his father's hip, instead of his shoulder. Of course, he knew the real reason he was home; Father's plans to help Midgard. 

The Asgardians would never agree to it; not outright. They rather enjoyed watching the realm of men scurry around, confused and creating bigger and bigger problems. Perhaps they felt it was cute, like an infant learning to walk. In truth, Midgard had, in this past century, done one of the most remarkable acts of 'catching up' he'd ever read about. They'd managed to learn how to build flying machines, going from a glider to crafts capable of landing on their moon, to ones able to break the sound barrier. They'd created ways to prevent disease and nearly wiped several of them out, along with creating a communication system that linked anyone with a computer to another, regardless of distance. All while having two wars that engulfed the entire realm, a plague that killed millions, and thousands of disasters as well.

Remarkable creatures, Midgardians. 

Loki yawned and rolled over, already knowing that even if he hadn't been called home because of the impending meeting with the Æsir, he still would have had to return home for the winter. He narrowed his eyes at the garment hanging on the door of his wardrobe. The fine leather tunic should reach his knees, giving him the freedom to wear any pants of his own choosing under it. He swung his feet down and went across the room, running hand down the dark material. It was butter soft, a fine, formal garment for the next several feasts. He took it up and pressed it to his front and groaned. Once again, the seamstress or tailor had forgotten his height – the hem was down around his ankles. “What do they think I am, a bloody girl?” He held the garment out, his hand glowing for a moment before he released it, letting it hover in midair. “Although, what's the point of having seidr if you don't use it?” He flicked his left hand and the tunic glowed bright yellow for a moment before he grabbed it, holding it to him again. “There we are.” He chuckled. “And my fellow scholars said learning alteration spells was useless.” 

He rehung the garment and went over to his trunks, throwing back the lid of the first. It was quicker and easier for him to unpack his own things, rather than worry about a servant accidentally crushing something. He drew out the largest of his obsidian mortars and pestles and set them on his work table, then lined the rest of them up next to the first, and then set his scales at end, frowning as he did so. “Have to recalibrate for the climate and gravity.” He sighed and continued to unload his crocks of potion ingredients, glad that he'd left Alfheim with them fully stocked with the herbs and ingredients he couldn't get easily on Jotunheim. He was in the middle of organizing those when he heard someone approaching his chambers on the stairs. He stilled; the footsteps were too heavy to be anyone but his father. Rather than wait for the king to knock, if he was even planning on doing it, Loki went and opened the door of his room, stepping back and waited.

“Loki.” Laufey looked down at him with a touch of amusement. “Getting settled, are you?”

“Yes, sir.” He tilted his head up to look up at his father. The room may have his sized furniture in it, but the chamber was designed for someone of a normal jotun's height. “I was unpacking.”

“Hmm.” His father nodded and then sighed. “I take it Lady Elana will not be arriving shortly with a trousseau.” 

He shook his head. “No. She has gone to Vanaheim with an exceptionally thick Asgardian warrior.” 

“Foolish girl.” He shook his head. “She'll regret that decision.” 

“In truth, Father, I am not as upset as I suspect she thinks I am.” He went back to his trunk and continued to unpack. “I am mildly sad, but I do not believe our relationship would have lasted much longer.” 

Laufey let out a long breath. “I believe your mother is more upset than you are.” 

“If Mother wants to be a grandmother that badly, she should bother Helblindi, not myself. He is the eldest, after all.” He shrugged and caught his father's smile. “See, you agree with me.” 

“Your mother just wants you to be happy, Loki. As do I. It is just a sad truth that...” He shook his head. “It would be next to impossible for us to arrange a marriage for you. You know that.”

“And you think I've failed at finding a wife on another realm. Father, I'm barely a thousand, I have plenty of time before I need to worry about not being married.” He set down a crock, taking a breath, glancing up, “that was insolent of me, apologies.” 

“It is fine, Loki.” He sighed. “Your mother worries, however.” 

“I believe that is a mother's privilege. To worry over her children, no matter what their age. Or size.” He smiled as his father chuckled. “I suspect she worries enough for all of us.” 

“That she does, Loki, that she does.” He cleared his throat. “I suspect you already know you won't be leaving Jotunheim for a while.” 

“I do.” He set down the crock he was holding. “I am greatly appreciative for you allowing me to remain on Alfheim as long as you did, Father. I have not squandered my time on frivolities. I have learned much while I was away.” 

“Indeed.” Laufey shifted slightly and then cleared his throat. “I have something to ask of you, my son.” 

He drew himself up, and stood obediently still. “Yes, Father?”

“I know I have brought you home right before the visit of the Æsir, but it would be best if you were not a part of the proceedings.” He made a small grunt. “They have.... _ideas_ about men doing magic.”

He nodded in response. “I am aware. I will do my best to stay out of the way. However, you have to tell Mother if you don't want me at meals.” 

Laufey laughed outright. “I wouldn't dare.” He cleared his throat. “Speaking of, it's time for dinner.” Without preamble, and if he were still a mere child, Loki found himself settled into the crook of his father's arm, his back against his chest.

“I can walk perfectly fine, Father.” He felt foolish, being carried around like this. It was bad enough when his brothers did it in jest, but for either of his parents? “Please.”

“Humor your father in his old age.” He chortled. “It's quicker this way and your mother needs to subject you to five years worth of mothering in a single meal, if she can. Don't be surprised if she insists on tucking you into bed tonight.” 

Loki rolled his eyes and silently thanked the Norns that if his mother did carry him to bed, he wasn't sharing it with someone to see.

*

Sif was glad of her gloves. The cloth of them matched her dress enough that she could keep her clenched fists hidden as she watched Thor dance with some maid who had asked, before the meal was even finished, to dance when it was time. That simply wasn't _done_. There was protocol and propriety to be obeyed at these blasted events. She shifted her gaze to Fandral, who was in his element, but the self-satisfied smirk on his dance partner told her that there would be a cat-fight among his admirers before the night was out. She shifted her gaze to Hogun, who was being led around the floor by Sigyn, one of the few women of her own age group she could stand.

Mainly because Sigyn had no interest in Thor.

“You are too young to be brooding like that.” Volstagg stated, his voice sounding exactly how she imagined a big brother's would. “You should just tell Thor how you feel.” 

She felt her cheeks go pink and she took a sip of wine. “He wouldn't believe me. He would say I am drunk.”

He shook his head and leaned forward. “You have been friends for ages, you just need to tell him and then let him dwell in shock until he's jolted to the fact that he's been chasing the wrong girls for decades.”

She took another drink of wine. “That's fairy-tale nonsense. It makes about as much sense as love at first sight.” The music drew to a close and couples began to break apart. She straightened up as Thor shot a glance at her, but then, laughing, drew a different girl into the next dance. “He's probably just making sure I'm still watching him.” 

“I'm glad he's not coming to Jotunheim. The Allfather believes it would be unwise.” He snorted. “If Thor has even remembered that there is a delegation going to that realm next week.” 

“He's not that forgetful.” She remarked, defensively. “He just...” She repressed a sigh; she really was terrible about making excuses for Thor's behavior. She did that more than she cared to – in fact, she always seemed to be tolerating behavior from her friend that she would never stand for from anyone else. Why? Was it because Thor was the crown prince? Because the Allfather and her father were dear friends? 

She took a drink of wine and glanced at Volstagg, who was carefully peeling the skin off an apple, while his daughter watched, fascinated, as it came off in a long, thin ribbon. Or she defending Thor's behavior because she was, in fact, a silly little girl infatuated with a prince. She drained the last of her wine and stood up. “You're right, my friend.” She scanned the crowd and caught sight of Baldr slinking into a side room, carrying two plates loaded with sweets while a stream of small children followed him. 

“I am?” Volstagg's hand almost slipped. “Norns, if you're agreeing with me...” He stilled at her expression. “He'll hate himself for it in the end, lass. Trust me.”

“Who's going to hate himself?” The little girl pipped up as Sif skirted over to the door she had seen Baldr go through and leaned causally next to it, knocking on it twice. 

The door opened a crack. “What's the password?” The younger prince blinked at her. “Lady Sif?”

“I'll stand guard until you've finished your tea party.” She gave him a grin. “As far as the mothers know, you're all off in the hedge maze, playing hide and go seek.” 

The boy chuckled and shut the door again and she took up her post, her mind already going towards next week's visit to Jotunheim. What she was going to do, exactly, she didn't know. But it would be better than spending time with her cousins, who thought she was a freak for wanting to be a warrior. 

“Sif!” Thor was suddenly in front of her. His breath reeked of mead. “So this is where you've been hiding.”

“I've not been hiding. You've been occupied.” She replied, regarding him thoughtfully. “I was sitting right across from you all during dinner.”

“Were you?” He chuckled and then shook his head. “I must not have seen you. Just like those animals never see you when we hunt.” He gave her a slap on the arm, as if she were Fandral. “Then again, who slayed the bigger boar when we were out last?”

She tossed her head. “I believe that was me, Thor.” She lifted her chin. “As you well remember.”

“I've killed bigger.” He coughed. “Have you seen Baldr? It's time he was in bed for the night.”

She rolled her eyes. “Your brother is seven hundred Thor, not seventy.” 

“No matter, he's around here somewhere. I'll suss him out.” He chuckled and walked off, calling for a tankard of mead. “Another!”

She snorted under her breath and she heard the door click open. “Thank you.” Baldr muttered, sounding as disgusted as she felt. “I think I'll have a word with Mother about how much Thor drinks.”

“If we have a summer of torrential rain, I'll know where to place the blame.” She looked around, and saw that no one was watching their location. “Coming out?”

“A few are.” He stepped aside and several children scurried out, wiping their mouths free of chocolate and sugar and they giggled as they ran off into the crowd, looking for their parents. “And since when do I get blamed for things?” He slipped a large cookie into her hand. “If anyone tells you that eating that will make you fat, punch them.” 

The door clicked shut and she regarded the treat with some interest; it was her favorite kind – full of chopped nuts and covered in crystallized sugar. She adjusted her hold on it and took a very unladylike bite out of the cookie. Damned if she was going to pick at her food and deny herself sweets in an effort to attract attention from Thor or any man. As she took a second bite, she resolved that she was going to have a heart-to-heart with herself over what sort of man she did want to spend her life with, instead of what people _expected_ her to want. Sif felt she'd done a damn good job of not falling under any expectations of what a woman should be so far, why should she quit now?

*  
The Great Hall was heavy with the smell of the feast, and Loki grasped the end of the rib before him with one hand, while tearing the meat from it with the other. Mammoth was one of his favorite meats, and several of the beasts had been roasted for this event, and he'd been afforded a whole rib of his own. The creatures were raised near the southern coast, both for meat, as well as for milk. Their hides were used to make shoes and other garments, mostly for children. After mammoth, there would be skilgar tenderloin soup, then frost berry pie. He sat on his raised bench, his legs folded up in the seat, and chewed thoughtfully on his meat. 

“It's not too much for you, is it, Loki?” His mother's voice was gentle as she spoke to him. He turned to look at her, and of his immediate family, she was closest in size to him; a mere nine feet tall, only three feet taller than he. 

Most jotuns with his 'condition' as it was called, left the realm to settle in places where their lack of height was negligible. Or, if they were of the noble class, went to schooling elsewhere before returning home and then headed out as ambassadors to other realms. It was called dwarfism, and came in several forms, the one he was supposedly 'suffering' with meant while he was perfectly proportioned, his body just refused to grow to a 'proper' height. There had been hope he would 'catch up' at puberty, but he remained small and stunted. 

He smiled at his mother. “I may not have my brothers' height, mama, but I do have their appetites.” He tore off a hunk of the meat and began to eat, setting the other part in his plate. 

“I know that.” She chuckled softly and picked up a rib from the pile on her plate, delicately pulling the flesh from the bone with her teeth. 

Loki took the rest of his meat and ate it slowly, watching the assembly. There were no other jotuns of his size at the gathering; and it was jarring; it always had been. When he had been younger, his brothers had taken turns carrying him around in a harness on their backs, and while he had enjoyed it, it only drove home the fact of just how different he was from them.

“That Lady Elana was a fool for leaving you.” Mother offered, looking disdainful. “But it was for the best. You wouldn't want a light elf for a wife anyway. She'd complain about the weather, even when it was warm.” She cleared the throat. “Perhaps a dark elf...”

“Mother, no.” He held up his hand. “I don't think that would be much better. Besides, their fathers tend to be rather like Æsir ones, wanting to know what great battles you've won, what mighty deeds you've preformed.” He grasped the rib again, pulling more meat free from it. “And I will repeat what I told Father. If you want grandchildren so badly, tell Helblindi.” 

“I just....” She gave him a sad smile. “I don't like the idea of you being alone, precious.” 

Loki resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “Mother, I'm barely of age.”

“I know darling.” She snapped the bone of her rib in half and sucked on one of the open ends, draining out the marrow within. “But it's my prerogative to worry over all my boys, no matter what their age.” She did the same with the other rib half, before tossing the bone down and picking up another rib. 

In response, he contented himself with stripping the meat from his own serving by hand, and silently admitted that his mother was right; he was rather lonely when he was at home. But it couldn't be helped. It wasn't as if he had never tried to properly court a girl; sadly, most treated him like a passing fancy. He ripped another piece of meat free, wondering when, exactly, the bench he was sitting on had been made; there was room on it for two people of his size.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alternate title of this story: The Silver-Tongue and the Tongue-Tied.

Sif was dismayed that she had to bring gowns with her on the trip to Jotunheim but her father was adamant; she would be required to dress properly for dinner. Fortunately, she had long since found a style of dresses she could get in and out of on her own, without having to rely on a lady's maid. She was also thankful for the carpetbag her mother had given her; the bag had been enchanted so it could hold far more than it normally would, and, no matter how much it contained, was never heavier than the bag weighed perfectly empty. It was one of a handful of things she encountered that made her wish she'd at least taken a few basic seidr lessons, but such a spell was far to complicated for a novice to undertake. 

The trip had been uneventful, and while it was early morning on Asgard when they left, here, in Utgard, it was near sundown and the company was expected to 'get settled' and then join Laufey, his family and the nobles for dinner in a few hours. 

The room she'd been ushered into was rather awkward; mainly because nearly every piece of furniture in it was made for a jotun; they had lowered the bed (thankfully) but she swore that it was big enough for her, and all six of her Vanir cousins, with plenty of room left over. The floor was covered in pelts, some of the furs thick and soft, others similar to deer hide. Her current problem, however, was that while there were coals laid for the fire, it was not lit. It wasn't exactly freezing in her room, but there was no way she was going to take a bath in the fine tub near the hearth without a blaze to keep her warm and from getting sick when she stepped out of the water. The room wasn't lit with sconces or lanterns like on Asgard, which would have allowed her to use the fire from there; instead, there were several strange lamps with great glass bulbs that shone when she tugged on the small cords she found attached to them.

“This can't be too hard.” She stood on a chair, scanning the mantle for matches, for flint, for something. “I can't imagine why they didn't...” She jumped down and went over to the bed, searching the table next to it for something that could be used to start a fire, or some sort of button to press to summon a servant. She went over to the tub and looked at the complex pipes next to it, she held her hand close to the boiler and found that it too, was cold. “Oh for...” 

A sharp knock at the door made her jump, then she let out a breath as she went towards it. It was too low to have been anyone other than a member of their party. Certainly someone else might have had similar problems, or perhaps they had a torch to share. “Just a moment.” She pulled on the cord attached to the door handle – it was just above her head – and tugged it open. “Ye...” The rest of the word died in her mouth as she found herself facing an Æsir sized jotun. 

“Good evening.” The man inclined his head. “You are Lady Sif?”

She straightened up slightly, wondering who this was; he was dressed to finely to be a servant. “Yes, good evening... ah...” 

“Oh, terribly sorry.” He smiled, his eyes sparkling slightly as he did. “I am Prince Loki, I promise I will not be offended if you haven't heard of me.” 

Sif instantly thought of two other princes she knew and then wondered if Loki was more like Thor or more like Baldr. The one in front of her, in addition to being short, had black hair that fell halfway down his back, and was not bald, like every other male jotun she had seen so far. “It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” She felt foolish. “I do apologize, but ah...”

“It's perfectly fine, Lady Sif.” Loki replied, rather pleasantly. “I came to ask if these rooms are to your liking and if there's anything you need or wish to have changed.” 

“There's nothing to start the fire with.” She spoke more bluntly than she intended, and hoped that Loki wouldn't mistake it for rudeness; or that she was whining.

He blinked at her, his face drawn up in surprise. “You cannot conjure fire?” 

“No. I did not see the point in wasting my...” She fell silent as the prince's eyes narrowed and she swallowed. “I did not study seidr. I am afraid I don't know how to perform that spell.” 

“Well, I would be more than happy to start one for you, Lady Sif.” Loki took a step forward and she let him into the room, still uncertain what to make of him. You would think everyone would know of Laufey's son the... whatever he was. 

“Thank you.” She watched as he fairly floated over to the hearth, noting that unlike Thor, Loki was rail thin, and while he had an air of fragility about him, Sif could clearly see that it was nothing more than a ruse to draw the unsuspecting in. 

He stopped at the boiler first, and for a moment, his hand glowed yellow, and a moment later, the pipes groaned and then began a steady thrumming noise as the water began to heat. “Let that work for around twenty minutes before you fill the tub.” He gave her a slight nod before going over to the fire and crouching down. Sif went and looked at the coals, and jumped back a moment later when a blaze shot forth from the center of the pile, flooding the area with warmth. He slowly stood, watching her. “I will make sure that the servants know to leave the boiler and fire lit.” 

“Thank you.” She felt her cheeks go pink. “You must think me stupid for not knowing such a simple spell.” 

“I assure you, Lady Sif, conjuring fire is not a _simple_ spell.” Loki's voice sounded rather affronted, and she didn't quite blame him. “I feel as if I should apologize for the servants _assuming_ you would know how to perform seidr simply because you're a woman from Asgard. I'm willing to bet that not all women know how to do so, just as I know not all men on Asgard know how to use a battle axe.” There was a hint of a laugh in his voice and she managed to smile. “Oh, now there's a pretty picture.”

“Are you teasing me, your grace?” She wasn't sure if she wanted to smack him or burst out laughing. 

“No, I'm flirting with you, you silly girl.” He quipped and she swiped at him, only to have her hand go through thin air as the image dissolved and she whipped around at his chuckle, where he standing by the door, arms folded and face full of mirth. “I will see you at dinner, Lady Sif. Be certain to wear something that matches the pretty shade of pink your cheeks currently are.” He slipped through the threshold and the door swung shut behind him. 

The retort that was caught in her throat came out as a hacking cough and much to her chagrin, let out a giggle. She'd never actually had a man tease her in a way that wasn't condescending and rude. She'd heard plenty of remarks about how un-girlish she was from Thor, but his tone had never been what Loki's had been; light and somewhat playful. And the prince was right; not all men in Asgard knew how to use a battle axe. Fandral certainly didn't; the weapon was ill-suited for someone of his build. The prince hadn't even really insulted her, not at all.. he'd just told her that...

That her smile was a pretty picture and she needed to wear something that matched her pink cheeks.

Sif sat down in front of the fire and unlaced her boots, trying to figure out why she'd never heard of Loki Laufeyson before; perhaps he wasn't talked about, the way few people knew that Prince Baldr had a twin who died of the Fever when they were infants. So she rested her chin on her knees, watching the fire, noting that the blaze wasn't the normal coal fires she'd seen burning – the flames kept leaping upward, spiraling unnaturally, only to fall back down towards the embers, acting more like water in a fountain than a fire. “Show off.” The jotun prince hadn't just used seidr to start the fire, he'd enchanted the blaze as well. 

She hugged her legs and absently hoped she'd find herself seated near Prince Loki for dinner; and that she managed to not act like a silly little girl if she did. 

*  
Loki hoped he could get through dinner without being embarrassed by his parents or his brothers. Members of the court who would be present never said anything; and hopefully the visiting Æsir would keep their opinions of him to themselves. He wound the silver cord around the end of his braid and tossed it over his shoulder, taking stock of the remaining items set out on his vanity table for the formal dinner. Circlet, bracers, and two rings. “How does one eat neatly with their hands wearing rings anyway?” He set the silver circlet on his head, tugging hair free to wrap over the band, avoiding the pea sized emeralds worked into the design, and then tucked the strands back into the braid. The ornate bracers were standard wear, and he tied them on quickly, while his brothers' were done in a warrior motif, his bore Yggdrasil in relief, with a precious stone to denote each realm. 

A bell echoed up to him and he stepped back to look in the mirror, arms akimbo. “Best clothes, best manners, best foot forward.” He wrinkled his nose and stuck out his tongue. “In other words, Loki Laufeyson, keep quiet and don't speak without being spoken to first. Blah.” He straightened his shoulders and went out of his room and walked down the shallow, curved path that was worked into the stone. It's original use was to help move goods up and down the tower, but he used it to avoid having to literally climb the stairs. If it wasn't for duty, he'd be sliding down the stone, not caring he was well beyond the age of engaging in such childish behavior. 

“There you are.” Byleistr's voice called as he came to the end last turn. “I don't know why you don't tell father to let you move down here with the rest of us.” 

He glared up at his brother. “I'm afforded more privacy in the tower than I would be elsewhere. I also don't have to worry about some sleepwalking noble falling into my bed and crushing me.” He came to the base of the steps. “And don't even _think_ about carrying me.” 

“I won't.” His eldest brother stood nearly as tall as their father; fifteen feet and looked ready to crush anything in his path. But Loki knew better – his brother might have the body and appearance of a warrior, but he had the brains of a diplomat. “I wouldn't embarrass you like that.” 

They started down the corridor, with Loki taking three steps for his brother's one. “It's no wonder I'm so damn skinny, having to practically run to keep up with you and the rest of the family.”

“When was the last time you saw a fat jotun?” His brother laughed, “and no, when Lady Agra was pregnant with triplets does not count.” 

“I think it should.” Loki scoffed. “I still don't know how that woman managed to walk with her belly like that.” He shook his head at the memory of his mother's friend with her stomach so round, she looked as if she'd swallowed the moon.

“That makes two of us.” He chuckled. “I don't think it's right of Father to keep you out of the talks with the Æsir After all, if we are going to interact with Midgard, you need to be the one to do it.” He shook his head. “Norns only knows what they'd do if a... regular sized jotun appeared on their planet.”

“Shoot them, most likely.”He offered. “Whatever happened, it wouldn't be good.” He sighed. “You also have to realize, that Midgardians, just like the rest of us, hate having others tell them what to do.”

“Never-mind the fact that we don't actually _have_ a plan.” Loki shrugged.

“A valid point. But by the time we wade through the bureaucracy, we should have one.” He sighed. “Of course, with all the paperwork and such involved, Midgard might have straightened themselves out.”

“I believe they need to rid themselves of around fifty despotic regimes and clean up the corruption in around one hundred and seventy eight governments first.” He shrugged. “And that's just an estimate.”

“How many of those... what do they call them, countries, does Midgard have again?” He coughed. “It seems to change constantly.”

“Just over two hundred, of what they call _recognized_ nations. There's quite a few small ones claiming that the country they are a part of doesn't have any power over them and they're free and independent. Rather like a child claiming their parents don't rule their lives anymore.”

“Ah, like commoners, we both know that our lives are not our own.” Byleistr's voice sounded rather sad. “Although you do have more freedom than Helblindi and I.” 

“I believe that's what I get in exchange for being a dwarf.” He remarked. “Not that I think the citizens of Nidavellir would appreciate me using that term to describe myself.” 

“That realm is so arrogant at times, they make the Æsir seem humble.” His brother snorted. “And it's what you are. “Makes of the finest weapons in the realms.” He paused. “I wonder what Midgard's great contribution could be.”

“Food.” Loki said, without pause. “They have such variations and ways of preparing, it boggles the mind. It'd take an Æsir three hundred years to try every dish. Although their poverty is appalling.”

“Corruption again.” they reached the great hall. “If nothing else, Midgard needs to be made aware that they are not alone in the universe and it would be better if the Nine Realms stand united instead of separate and vulnerable. Xandar is learning that the hard way.” 

“The Xandarian Empire didn't exactly pick a fight with the Kree.” Loki interjected, scanning the assembly, noting that the five visiting Æsir had each been given a seat next to one member of the royal family. “And for the love of Ymir, don't go into politics over dinner.” 

“Thank you, Father, for the reminder.” His brother chortled. “I best go see who introduce myself to my dinner companion.” He walked away, leaving Loki alone by the door. He turned to see Lady Sif and a rather stout man walking towards him.

“Good evening, Lady Sif.” He remarked, politely, as they drew level with him. He didn't say anything about her dress matching the shade of pink her cheeks turned at his words. “And your friend?”

“Volstagg.” He held out his hand, rather uncertain and Loki shook it. “Sif mentioned meeting you earlier, your grace.” 

“Don't you dare.” Sif hissed through a clenched smile, looking as if she wanted to murder the man where he stood. 

“It was a short meeting, but memorable none the less.” He straightened up, keeping his manner correct. “My I escort you into the hall, Lady Sif?” He offered his arm and, were it possible, she went even pinker. 

“She'd be delighted.” The man gave her a tiny push towards him. “I'll be perfectly content to sit with her majesty tonight.” 

“Oh, were you to sit next to my mother?” Loki looked down at Sif and saw she was biting her lip to hard, it was in danger of splitting. “I'm certain she will not mind.” He held out his arm and she quickly grasped it, her expression still half-angry. They took a few steps into the hall when he paused and he called over his shoulder to the Æsir, still waiting in the doorway. “I should warn you, Sir Volstagg, my mother might mistake you for a child, as she still does with me sometimes, and attempt to cut up your meat for you. I suggest you let her carry on and thank her politely when she's finished.” 

Sif's free hand flew to her mouth as they walked, clearly trying to hold back laughter. “You are _terrible._ ” She seethed.

“I'm no such thing. I'm being perfectly serious.” He answered, honestly. “My mother means well, but, well... that's how mothers are.” He tried not to notice the nobles elbowing each other at the sight of him escorting a woman through the great hall. “And if you tell me that Asgardian mothers wouldn't dream of embarrassing their children, I shall call you a liar before this entire assembly.”

“Are you always like this?” She spat. “I don't know if I want to laugh or slap you.”

“Don't tell me the idea of someone cutting up your friend's food for him doesn't at least make you grin.” He saw her press her fingers to her lips, trying to calm her emotions. “If I've offended you, I apologize.”

“No... it's not that...” He helped her up onto the small dais where his chair was located. “I'm just...” She turned to look at him. “Why are you trying to make me laugh?”

He folded his arms and gave her a look that was half-sympathetic, half-serious. “Because most Æsir women would not voluntarily come to Jotunheim with a diplomatic group, unless they were the diplomat. Since I know you are not, I am guessing someone felt you needed time away from Asgard, and the alternative was worse than coming here.” 

Sif's expression alone told him that he was correct. “I am...” She shook her head, and stiffened somewhat. “The alternative was spending time with my cousins on Vanaheim who all think I'm a _freak_ because I'd rather fight alongside the men of Asgard rather than sit on the sidelines.” She spoke in perfect honesty, and that split second, Loki fell head heels in love with her. How utterly different Sif was from all the other women he had met. The look on her face, however, told him that she was prepared for another snide remark.

“You're a warrior then?” He paused, “Forgive me, I believe the expression is shield-maiden?”

She lifted her chin. “And what do you say to that?”

“I think that is wonderful.” He spoke honestly, “some of my favorite literary heroines have been warriors.” He held out the chair so she could sit. “Although I still think Eowyn of Rohan was quite the fool for handing the throne over to her brother, after her uncle the king gave it to her.” He slid into the long chair next to her. “But then, not many people know of whom I speak.”

“I have never heard of Eowyn or of this Rohan... where is it?” She frowned. “What book?”

“A series of books called _The Lord of the Rings._ A Midgardian work.” He smiled at her. “Do you read, Lady Sif?”

“Not Midgardian books.” She frowned. “I don't believe I know of any.” 

“If you wish to borrow my copy to read, you are more than welcome to.” He scanned the room and caught sight of Volstagg again, who had a look of trepidation on his face as he sat down next to his mother, “ten silver coins says those two are going to be as thick as thieves before the final course.”

She snickered as a servant filled their wine goblets. “I'd rather just have a good seat to watch them work together.” 

“You may just get that.” He replied, taking up his wine and taking a drink. He waited until she had put her own goblet down before speaking again, deciding that since now he knew she was no simpering little maid, he might as well inform her of his own – non-traditional learning. “If I may ask, Lady Sif, what are your opinions on men studying seidr over swordplay?”

*  
“Now, Sir Volstagg, I will not ask why you are seated next to me if you can explain _that_.” Queen Araja nodded towards her son and Lady Sif, who were clearly in the middle of a deep discussion, practically oblivious to the rest of the hall.

He set down his fork and coughed. “His grace was by the door when Lady Sif and I arrived. He offered to escort her into the room.” He smiled. “I ah... I may have nudged her towards him a bit.” 

“Oh, there's nothing wrong with that.” The queen replied, taking a drink from her goblet. “I was told that Lady Sif was betrothed to Prince Thor. Is that true, or merely gossip?”

Volstagg nearly laughed at the woman's words. Thor was so clueless when it came to Sif, it was shameful. “No, she is not betrothed to anyone. Most people assume that the two of them are involved owing to the fact that she is the only woman who has spent a significant amount of time with the prince. It was rather sad when all the boys who once thought it was sweet and endearing that Sif wanted to be a warrior started to think that it was shameful and wrong instead.” He shook his head. “She has not had an easy time of it.” 

“I imagine so.” She let out a winsome sigh. “Neither has Loki. It's one of the reasons he has traveled to other realms. Since a warrior's life was out of the question for him, he has turned to the world of seidr and books.” She shot him a look that was unnerving. “Most of the citizens on Jotunheim do not say anything about it, but other realms... they have _ideas.”_

“I know that, your majesty.” He took a breath. “I suspect that before there can be harmony throughout the Nine Realms, we need to make sure we are all being our best.” 

“It's never easy.” The queen snapped a bone in half and he said nothing as she sucked the marrow free; if there was one thing about the residents of Jotunheim he could say, it was that they didn't waste food. “So, Lady Sif does not have any suitors or admirers waiting for her back on Asgard?”

“Not on Asgard, your majesty.” He looked over the rim of his goblet as Sif covered her mouth again, a rather poor attempt at hiding her mirth. He'd never seen his friend look so unguarded or happy at a formal dinner before. “Although I believe she may have found one here.” 

**

During the first few weeks on Jotunheim, Sif remained in her chambers, and while the novels that the prince had lent her held her attention for a few hours, she was rapidly growing bored. She wasn't used to being confined for so long. Father had warned her about this before she came, but she hadn't taken him too seriously. She also didn't expect to be kept tucked away as long as she had been. If this was an attempt at getting her to see other realms, all she ever saw of it was this room, the corridors, and the great hall. She set aside her current book – _Pride and Prejudice and Zombies_ – and went over to the fire and poked the coals a few times. It hadn't gone out since Loki lit it her first night here, although the flames no longer danced as they used to. 

The knock on the door was welcome; at this point, she didn't quite care who it was, even though she knew the rest of her party were in council at the moment. “Come in.” 

The door was pushed open and Loki appeared in the doorway, wearing what was unmistakably some sort of practice armor, a long wooden stave was in a harness behind his back. “I was heading down to the training grounds and I was wondering if you would care to join me. I may not be adept with a sword, but certainly you wouldn't object to staves for an afternoon.” 

She bolted towards the door, and tripped over the hem of her dress, and found herself caught before she could meet the floor. “I should change.” 

“I was about to suggest that.” He set her back on her feet. “I'll wait right outside the door.” He paused. “You do have leather armor, correct? I suspect that wearing metal would not ah... well, I do not believe you want your sweat freezing it to your skin.” 

“Won't leather do the same?” She frowned, then realized he had a point. “It'll just take me a few minutes to get ready.” He nodded and went out into the hall, shutting the door behind him. She didn't waste any time in removing the mountain of small clothes and her gown, quickly pulling on her pants, boots and a long-sleeved tunic. She dug out her sparing gloves from her bag, then grabbed a pair of woolly socks and her boots. She wasn't too worried about the cold, once she and Loki were warmed up, it wouldn't be an issue. After glancing in the mirror to make sure her hair was still back in its tight ponytail, she picked up her glaive from where she kept it, next to her bed, and went to the door. “I'm ready to go.” She announced as she opened it.

Loki's eyes widened at the sight of her. “I think you look better in trousers.” He grinned.

She looked him over, the armor he was wearing covered his torso and that was about it. His boots came to his knees and he wore fingerless gloves on his hands. “I thought the jotun always fought barefoot.” 

“Only those with big feet.” He replied as they started down the corridor. “I learned to fight on Alfheim, and there, they wear boots. It's quite hard to get a grip on grass in bare feet.” 

“Grass is so unreliable when it comes to traction.” She shook her head, “I've fallen on my face a time or two.” She shot a look at him. She was glad to be moving; in just her armor, the corridors were rather cool. “Without a hemline to get in my way.” 

“I wasn't going to say a thing about it.” They walked down the narrow gully that went along side many of the steps. “I think just some fresh air alone will do us both some good.” 

“I can never tell where it is you disappear to. You seem to vanish into thin air after dinner every night, only to reappear the next evening.” She had found herself missing him during the day, as servants had brought the books to her. 

“Duty.” He responded, waiting for her at the end of the steps. “And it has long been my duty to stay out of sight.” He sighed. “It is not that my parents are ashamed that they had a dwarf son, but they are rather... overprotective to the point it can be frustrating.” 

She folded her arms as they continued onward. “It doesn't seem that way, your grace. Are they worried about you being harmed? And if they are that way, why did they let you go to Alfheim, alone?”

“Alfheim is the most accepting of the Nine. I went there to study, and while I was there, it was rather like being free. I was just a small jotun, but I was normal sized to them. But for my ears and eyes, I could have passed as a light elf. Being home...” He sighed. “Being home means most people still think me a child, when I have not been one in quite some time.” 

“You've told me all of this. So where are you hiding?” She retorted. “Since I know there is no library.” 

“My tower.” He let out a hollow laugh. “I'm kept tucked away in a tower with my books and seidr, coming out for meals and the occasional walk.”

“Do you not have friends?” They started down another set of stairs. “Or is this another problem that you have no control over?”

“Very much so.” He sighed and glanced back at her. “I do have friends off-realm, but as you can imagine, if they were to visit, we would be limited to what we could do.” 

She set a hand against the stone to steady herself as they continued on. “Did it bother you when you were a child?”

“No. When I was young, my brothers used to carry me around everywhere. As you can imagine, I was always the last one found in games of hide and seek.” They came to a fork in the stairs. “This way.” He started down to the right. “Once I learned to read, I had the universe at my fingertips, and my small stature was the last thing I ever worried about.” 

Sif kept silent as she recalled her own childhood, to that day she'd gone with her father to the training grounds because her mother was at her wit's end from trying to teach her how to weave. One day watching the boys spar and she knew that she didn't want to be left out of something like that ever again. She couldn't remember when the girls in Asgard had started to whisper that there was something _wrong_ with what she was doing, but she had more than her fair share of bruises. “When did you start to study seidr?” 

“Around my two-hundredth birthday. I was well aware I'd never be a match for any other jotun physically, so I would need stealth and cunning if I was to survive.” He paused and looked back at her, an awkward smile on his face. “And really, I stopped worrying about others thinking what I was doing was feminine a long time ago. Quite honestly, I don't know why more men don't study it or more women don't study the art of war.” 

“Why is that?” She returned his smirk with one of her own.

“Gracious Sif, I thought you'd have figured that out. It's the perfect place to meet members of the opposite sex without it being socially awkward or your parents hovering over your shoulders.” He chuckled and they turned down another passageway. “We're almost there.” 

She shook her head. “Well, my trouble seems to be that most of the men I've been sparing with have forgotten that I am female.” 

“Norns,” Loki turned and started to walk backwards, his face stunned. “how could they forget _that?”_

“I confess, I haven't done a good job of acting very.... feminine in their company, and when I do act like a gentlewoman, they think I'm drunk or play-acting.” She frowned. “And you haven't said a thing about it.”

“That's because I find your little slip-ups to be darling. It's rather endearing to me that you're not worried about being some perfect lady. I dare say I'm a rather poor example of a prince at times.” He stumbled on a crack in the stone, caught himself on the wall and then turned back around. “I should probably go down this way.” Sif stopped, and Loki, most likely hearing her footsteps falling silent, did as well and looked up at her. “What's wrong?”

“Let me see if I understand you.” She stared at him, hard. “You think it's _adorable_ when I use the wrong fork, trip over the hem of my dress, and speak far plainer and boldly than is proper? Then why the bloody hell have you been avoiding me?”

“I'm being rather bold now, my dear lady, in taking you to the training grounds.” He gave a slight inclination of the head. “I do not know how familiar you are with the customs of Jotunheim, but when it comes to ah... how would you Æsir put it, _courting_ , the ultimate decision to move forward is with the female.” 

She tried to process what he had just told her and found herself even more confused. “So you're saying that just by knocking on my door, you were committing a gross act of protocol?” 

He looked embarrassed. “Well, I confess that by the standards of Jotunheim, yes I was. That being said, I may have asked your father if there was something you enjoyed doing during the day last night at dinner. So this was...” His cheeks went indigo. “I don't know what this is.” 

Sif closed the distance between them. “And you asked my father because you knew that on Asgard, it was the proper thing to do.” 

“I do not care if you laugh at me, Lady Sif. But even a blind man could clearly see that you were about ready to start climbing the walls.” He lifted his chin, his blush somewhat faded. “Are you angry?”

She set a hand on his shoulder and took a deep breath. “I assure you that the last thing I am, is _angry_.” Sif hated the giggle that escaped her and saw him smile at it. “I'm just... I'm _flattered_ that you... I just...” she leaned forward and kissed him swiftly, her lips barely making contact with his. Exactly half a second later, she found herself being embraced tightly while Loki kissed her. It wasn't like any kiss she'd gotten before, it was deep and the coolness of his mouth against hers was an odd contrast to the heat that was building in her chest. She wrapped her arms around his neck, letting the kiss continue, not giving a damn if anyone saw them. Who would notice them anyway? They were both half the size of nearly everyone on this realm. 

“Ahem.” A deep cough caused them to break apart and she looked up into the worn face of a jotun she'd seen several times at dinner, but had not met. 

“Good afternoon, General Thrym.” Loki regarded the older jotun with respect. “how are you today?”

“Not as happy as you two seem to be.” He chuckled. “Don't let me disturb you.” He started up the stairs, shaking his head. 

Sif was certain her face was scarlet. “How long do you think he was watching?”

“Probably not as long as we think.” He shook his head. “I believe we have a sparing ring waiting for us.” 

“Indeed.” They started down the stairs again. “Do you think he'll say something?”

“Worried, my Lady Sif?” He called over his shoulder.

She shook her head. “Not worried, more a matter of... well, what do the jotun think of Æsir women?”

“Their opinion of the women of your realm is rather limited, as they do not know many of them.” He shrugged. “Given the fact that they barely pay attention to me, the two of us will be discussed for perhaps five minutes over a tankard of ale in a tavern and then swiftly forgotten, if we are at all.”

**  
Laufey had not honestly expected the Asgardians to just let him go ahead and start interacting with Midgard. The realm, while still primitive in the grand scheme of things, was not wholly ready to join the other eight realms within Yggdrasil. The discussion had turned to forming a delegation with representatives from several realms to travel to Midgard, once winter was over on Jotunheim. It was still several months off, but much of the planning could be done beforehand. Not that it would be hard for him to choose who to send, when the time came. There was no question of sending anyone but Loki. Well, the boy had wanted to have a duty or task for the good of Jotunheim for as long as he could remember, and he could no deny his son this task.

A sharp knock on his door caused him too look up. Too bold to be either of his sons, too strong to be his mate's. “Come.” 

The door swung open as his old friend and ally, Thrym, stepped into the room. “Good evening, your majesty.” 

“Good evening.” He glanced at the clock. “It's far to early for dinner, what brings you here?” 

“Oh, nothing...” He chuckled, and Laufey frowned at the man's actions. “I just felt someone should inform you that your son and General Tyr's daughter were kissing in a passageway this afternoon.” 

He smiled in response. “Well, that's all fine and proper then.” He stood up, rather amused. “I have spoken with Lady Sif and found her to be quite amusing and clever.”

“You really believe than an Æsir woman would willingly stay here, in Jotunheim? What of the winter?” He turned serious. “Or are you saying you would let your son travel to Asgard, of all places?”

Laufey smiled. “She is not the fragile thing so many of her kind are. The Sleep will come for her just as it does for all of us. Besides, there is no way to know if she will even stay.” He chuckled as they headed for the door. “Although I'm not going to object if she does.” 

*  
Dinner was breaking up and for Loki, the meal had been far too long. Sif had sat with his mother, the two of them talking about who knew what, and he had seen them laugh and look in his direction far too often for him to be comfortable with. He had spent his meal conversing with Volstagg, who seemed to stick to two subjects; food and his children. The man had lamented not being able to bring his family with him on this trip, to which Loki promptly invited the man to bring them the next time, and he would have the nursery cleaned in preparation, if his children had no objecting to playing with oversized toys. The warrior had laughed, thanked him and said it sounded delightful. 

The Asgardians were due to leave by the end of the week; and already he was dreading it. He had wasted precious time avoiding Sif because of propriety, and now, she would be leaving before they'd really spent any time together. 

He decided that if nothing else, they should have one grand memory together before she went back to Asgard and he remained behind. He skirted around the room to where she was standing, watching two of the ladies of the court flirt with his brothers. He rolled his eyes and tugged on her arm. “Good evening.” 

She shot him a look. “It seems no matter where I go, I find vapid girls.” She sighed. “Then again, I suppose it's not as bad here as I've seen elsewhere.” She nodded towards them. “I think your brothers are enjoying the attention.” 

“Sif, I believe we've established that you are terrible at small talk.” He quipped and squeezed her hand. “I came to ask you something.”

“If the question is would I like to go back to the training grounds tomorrow, the answer is yes.” She smiled. “I had quite a bit of fun making you eat snow.” 

“I know you did.” He squeezed her hand. “That's not it.” He kept his gaze on the room, but saw her look at him. “I was wondering if you'd be interested in stalking a dragon.” 

“Dragon?” She hissed. “As in large, scaly, fire breathing, flying death dragon?”

“Yes.” He replied, perfectly serious. “There is a dragon that is threatening a trade route between Utgard and Junstanborg. No one seems to be able to find it, even though it's the currently the largest living thing within a two-hundred kilometer radius.”

“And you're not worried that it will roast and eat us, why?” She retorted, still not looking at him.

“Well, my lady Sif, if you were looking for dinner, what are you more prone to go for, stag or chipmunk?” He replied. “Besides, I'm not foolish enough to go looking for its lair.” 

“And how are we supposed to leave the palace, let alone Utgard without being followed?” She answered, her hands slipping behind her back, looking so innocent, it nearly made him laugh.

“You let me worry about that.” He smiled mischievously at her. “You just make sure to dress warmly, be ready to leave after the seventh morning bell, and sharpen your glaive.”


	3. Chapter 3

Sif was surprised at just how easily she and Loki left the palace and Utgard. She kept behind him as they fairly skimmed across the snow, their boots leaving almost no imprints on the surface. They'd not run the entire way to the gates, but had ridden most of the way there on a cart headed for the guardhouse. The morning was cold and crisp, and she glanced behind them to see the city was nothing more than a smudge on the horizon. “How far have we gone?” 

“A few kilometers.” Loki replied, coming to a stop and scanning the nearby terrain. “The dragon hasn't attacked either city, but the strikes are closer to Junstanborg than Utgard. Of the two, Utgard is more heavily defended.” He frowned. “Meaning that its lair is most likely closer to Utgard.”

“But we're not looking for the lair.” She remarked. “Only an idiot goes looking for a dragon's lair.” She scanned the area as well. Utgard was located in a valley, surrounded on all sides by towering mountains, the only way in or out was a passageway that was half-a kilometer wide. On a map, the range formed a perfect ridge down the main continent of the realm, with the capital at its heart. 

“And we're not idiots.” He stopped next to a large rock formation, his gaze lingering on the nearest mountain, and as they watched, a few rocks slid from the summit and tumbled partway down. “It hasn't been seen in few days, which means it's getting hungry.”

“Hungry enough for a snack like us?” Sif frowned, coming level with him. “Will he be that starved?”

“The frost-beast herds are going to be moving south. He'll be looking for prey there.” He turned and headed down the embankment, and she followed, slipping slightly on the snow. “But that also means that the hunters from Utgard will be out, looking to laden the tables for the impending winter-feast. We'll be in Iringa Valley soon, the herds will most likely be there.” 

“I take it they aren't planning on serving dragon.” She quipped, and he caught her arm before she could slip further. “Thank you. Iringa? Is that someone from Jotunheim's history.”

“You're welcome. Iringa was one of the designers of Utgard. Most of the stone in the city was hewn out of the mountains that surround the valley.” He nodded. “We almost never plan on having dragon at any feast. We haven't had dragon for the winter feast since I was around five hundred, I believe.” He chuckled. “I still remember it well. One of the hunters gave me a piece of the heart. It was a great honor.” 

“To be given a piece of the heart?” They came to another mass of stone, a normal sized jotun would have had to walk around it, they just walked under it. “How so?”

“The ones who slay the dragon are afforded the heart, where the best meat is. If they choose, and if there is some left over, they can give pieces of the heart to others.” He gave her a smile. “I propose that if we somehow slay this dragon, we send all but our shares of the heart to the orphanage.” 

She gaped at him. “What do you say the odds of that....” She fell silent as Loki came to an abrupt stop and a sound echoed towards them, followed by a crash that shook the ground and snow sprayed everywhere, and then a bellow almost knocked them off of their feet. They crouched down as she caught sight of a spiked tail only a few meters away from Loki, who, most likely by instinct, had put his arm out to keep her back. His other hand was held in front of him, and he was barely breathing.

“If we get through this, you can punch me later.” He whispered, his gaze shooting back to her for a moment then back at the tail that swept the snow in front of them, the tip striking Loki's boot. Then there was another bellow, followed by a crack and crumbing sound. “This might hurt.” He grabbed her arm and half a second later, they were tumbling down the snow, and came to a stop, on the other side of the pass, and on the other side of the dragon, thankfully out of its line of sight, as it was still content on shaking himself free of the snow it had been hiding under.

“Shit.” Sif had never seen anything so massive before in her life. From nose to tail, the creature had to be over one hundred meters long, with a wingspan that was at least twice that. Its scales were alternating patterns of blue and black, and it moved along the bank, its focus not on them, but on the cliff near its side of the pass. The head was as large as a normal sized jotun, and was oddly spike free, but even from this distance, she could see that the dragon's canine's were the same length as one of her legs. “Uh... out of curiosity, how many chambers does a dragon heart have?”

“It has nine.” Loki replied and then glanced at her, then at her glaive. “Well, we found it. Do you ah, want to go back to Utgard, wait for it to go away or... try and kill it?” 

“We have your throwing knives, my glaive and that's it with weapons.” She seethed, and they watched the dragon scratch it's neck, looking rather like a dog. “The only way we could do it is if one of us got it straight in the brain.” 

“If I got you into position, could you do it?” He gave her a look and he did not break her gaze, his red eyes unblinking. “I'm serious. I get you onto the head, I distract him, you stab him. We'll worry about how to get the beast back to Utgard when we're finished. Your choice, Lady Sif.”

She watched the dragon as it yawned, thrashed its tail, and scratched again. To date, the largest animal she have ever brought down was an elk. The idea of returning to Asgard with a dragon-slaying to add to her name – a battle that could never be tied to Thor – she swallowed, shutting the prince back at home out of her mind and turned to the one still waiting for her reply. “You can get us out of here if things go sour, right?”

He nodded. “Soon as you want to.”

She swung her glaive out of it's holster. “I believe I would like dragon heart for dinner sometime soon.” 

Loki leaned forward and kissed her swiftly. “You forgot one more weapon, my lady.” He grinned and skidded down the path, and as she watched, he raised a hand and something, just out of her sight, bloomed into being. She hurried after him, just as the dragon turned its head, still ignoring them. “Get ready to run. I should mention this might ruin your glaive. We pull this off, I'll have the dwarves make you a set from the claws.” 

Sif tightened her grip on her weapon, scanning the dragon again, her focus on the small indention right in the center of the head. “If I lose my glaive, I expect a new one as well.”

“Of course my lady.” He bent down, watching the beast, and then flicked his hand again, and she didn't look to see what he had conjured, because he grabbed her arm. “Now!” He hissed and they sprinted across the snow, closing the distance between them and the dragon in seconds. He pulled her under the massive wing that swept down and then through the gap between the front leg and the side. “Jump!” He formed a cradle with his hands and she stepped into them, and he half-launched her onto the dragon's back. She saw him take off to the side and let out a sharp whistle.

When the dragon jerked its head towards Loki, it nearly unseated her, but Sif realized what he was doing and made her way swiftly down the neck and grasped the solitary spike before she could get onto the animal's head. The dragon reared up onto its hind legs and she found herself hanging by one hand, as she heard Loki's voice again.

“Hey, hey dragon! Come and get the nice yummy jotuns!” He cried and she swore that if they lived through this, she might just kill him and claim the dragon did it. The landscape flew by as the dragon crouched back down, and in doing so, threw her onto the head. 

“I am going to need a new glaive.” She muttered and stood up, and saw what was enticing the dragon so – it wasn't just one Loki standing in the pass, but at least a dozen. “Show off.” She swung her weapon upwards and then slammed it down with all her might. The dragon roared and she felt herself flying through the air, and then something – Loki? - caught her. She tumbled through snow and then heard the dragon bellow again, and then the sound of an avalanche reached her ears. “Fuck.” She staggered to her feet just as a crash echoed mere feet from her and her vision cleared, to see that she was standing next to the beast's neck, and it was barely breathing. “Norns.” 

“You all right?” Loki was closer to the dragon's belly, his palm against the skin. 

“I'm...” As she watched, the dragon stopped breathing. “Did we just kill a dragon?”

“Um... yes. Yes we did.” Loki looked rather stunned, and she imagined she must as well. “I _don't_ think we'll get into trouble for sneaking out of Utgard now.” 

She waded through the now wet snow to where he was standing, and then noticed that his leg was bleeding. “You're injured.”

He looked down at his leg, blinking. “I'll be fine.” He turned his gaze to her. “Are you okay?” 

“A little dizzy.” She rubbed her head and leaned back against their kill. “I'm having trouble believing what we just did.” 

Loki joined her. “That makes two of us.” He leaned over and kissed her again. “It may be some time before we get to go dragon-slaying again.” 

She hugged him, pressing her forehead against his. “Next time, you get to stab it. I'll be the distraction.” She kissed his chin. “Let's get your leg wrapped up, it'd be a damn sorry end to this story. Brave Prince Loki, dragon slayer, died from blood loss before he could be lauded for his triumph.” 

He laughed and the two of them sat down, with his back pressed up against their quarry. “My mother's going to be revolting when she hears about this.”

“Your mother?” Sif opened the pouch on her waist and drew out some clean cloths. “My mother is going to have a heart attack.” She pressed clean snow into the gash that ran from his thigh to calf and she saw him grit his teeth against the pain. “She'll never let me go hunting. It'll be straight to the loom with me. I'll be lucky if I'm allowed out of her sight.” She wrapped the bandage around his leg. “The healers can fix you up in no time when we get back.” She sighed, knowing that she'd spoken the truth about never being allowed out again. Mother was going to go ballistic when she heard this story. 

“Sif.” Loki's hand came up to her face, and she raised her eyes to meet his. His expression wasn't mirthful now, in fact, it was quite serious; and yet, oddly tender. His thumb brushed against her cheekbone. “It seems you are, in fact, a damsel in distress. I can think of nothing worse than such a beautiful, courageous, and strong woman as you being confined to the prison you just described.” His hand slid into her hair, tucking the strands that had fallen loose in their hunt behind her ear. 

She felt her cheeks go pink and while she tried to be angry at the term he had used that she utterly loathed – _damsel in distress_ – she couldn't. She was too stunned by the fact that someone, other than her father, had just praised her, with perfect honesty. “It was fun while it lasted, but if I was to have one last hunt, this was the best I can imagine.” 

“I'm afraid you will find that I am terrible when it comes to being serious and sincere when they must work together.” He let his hand fall and took her hand. “And this shouldn't have to be your last hunt. Rather, I would like it to be our first of many hunts.” He squeezed it. “Or would you think me entirely too bold if I asked you to marry me?” 

Sif's jaw dropped, and she could only stare at Loki, her brain barely registering his question. “I...” 

“You think about it, all right?” He squeezed her hand. “It's been an eventful morning.” He gave her a smile just as a horn echoed around them, followed by the sound of running feet and the horn was blown again.

“The dragon's been slain! Someone's already killed the beast!” A voice, perhaps a dozen yards away yelled.

“That would be the Lady Sif and your little brother, Bindi.” Loki called, his face was starting to look rather pale and Sif glanced down at his leg, seeing that the wound was starting to bleed through. He gave her a smile. “We're going to get carried back to Utgard and I'm not going to object.” 

She sat down on his side, squeezing his hand as the hunting party from the city appeared. “I have a question for you.”

He gave her a wan smile. “What?”

“Do you think they can make our wedding clothes from the hide?” She chuckled. “Although the color might clash with your skin.”

In response, Loki laughed and kissed her again.

*

“I cannot believe how foolish you were.” Laufey's voice was sharper than a thousand knives. “You both could have been killed.” 

Loki squeezed his eyes shut as a Healer Perna applied a salve to the cut on his leg. “I'm aware of that, Father. We did not set out with the plan to kill the dragon, it caught us off-guard.” The sting in his leg was not nearly as bad as it had been to have his mother haul him off of his elder brother's shoulder, in front of half of the city, and hug him like a rag doll, sobbing over her 'poor baby' and then carrying him into the palace. Sif was most likely laughing her head off.

“And still you went.” He sighed and let out a breath and there was the sound of a chair scraping against stone. “When you and Lady Sif's chambers were discovered empty, we did not know what to think. At first, we thought the two of you had run off to Vanaheim.” 

He snorted and opened his eyes. “Please, give me more credit than that. If we had eloped, I'd have left a note.” He coughed and looked down at his leg and then at the healer, who shook her head at him, but then she winked. Then she walked back to the far side of the hall. “you were perfectly content to let Helblindi and a whole hunting party go out after the dragon, and he's the eldest.” 

“That is beside the point!” His father shot back. “You're... you're not as...”

“I know this line by heart. I am not as big, strong, mighty or as magnificent as the wonderful Helblindi Laufeyson.” He snorted. “I don't see why it...”

“Do you think I love you any less because you're third born or because you're small?” Father looked as if he had just stabbed him in the heart. “You are my precious son, and if something were to happen to you..” He shuddered. “I do not want to imagine such a thing. Your mother would grieve until the end of her days and so would I.” He brushed a finger against Loki's head. “Lady Sif informed me that the two of you decided to send what portions of the dragon heart that are not for your plates to the orphanage. While a part of me is chagrined that such a fine cut of meat will be made into soup so that all the children will get a portion, I am so incredibly proud. Few who slay dragons would think to share with unfortunates.”

“Mother took me there enough times in my youth, I can never forget the delighted looks that simple mammoth jerky brought them.” He coughed and pushed himself up to a sit, glancing down at his leg, wondering if there would be a scar. “I suppose she has insisted I stay in bed until dinner.”

“That she has, and no arguments.” He held the finger right in front of Loki's face. “It was Sir Volstagg who suggested you might have gone out to stalk the dragon, or at least see it.” He ran his hand over his face and Loki found himself copying the gesture. “I am relieved that the two of you have returned safe and sound.” 

“And engaged.” Loki bit his tongue and grimaced. He had _not_ planned on telling his parents that bit of information just yet.

“Loki, you cannot marry a woman you have only known for two and a half weeks.” His father replied, but by his tone, he could tell that the king was amused.

“And exactly how many marriages have taken place among the ruling families of the nine realms between people whom have _never_ met?” He retorted, already knowing where this discussion was headed. “Or do you not like Lady Sif, because I know Mother does.” He gave his father a sheepish smile. 

“You're impossible.” He stood. “I believe I will have to talk to Lord Tyr now.” He waved to the healer, who had retreated to the far end of the hall. “See that Loki stays in bed until either I or his brothers come to get him.” 

“Yes, your majesty.” she bowed and then covered Loki with a pelt. “It's nearly time for lunch.” 

“I could use a nap.” Loki offered and then yawned. 

“Rest.” Father insisted. “You'll need it.” 

He gave him a tired smile and shuffled down under the cover. “Yes, Papa.” 

“Good boy.” He kissed his finger and then set it against Loki's forehead. “My little dragon-slayer.” He chuckled. “The Allfather and his golden son are going to piss themselves when they hear about this.” He stood and was about to move when a pair of voices echoed down towards them.

“Why do I have to see a healer? It's nothing more than a few bruises! I'll be fine!” Sif was being led, by the shoulders into the hall by her father, who looked somewhere between exasperated and proud.

“Because your mother would never let me hear the end of it, young lady.” Lord Tyr chuckled. “Besides, I apparently need someone to keep an eye on you before you decide to run off and slay something else.”

“Ah, Lord Tyr, I was just coming to speak with you.” Father was trying to sound serious, but Loki could tell he was really amused as a healer came over and bustled Sif to sit down on the foot of the bed next to his. “And good afternoon, Lady Sif.” 

“Good afternoon.” She jerked her head up to look at him and then winced in pain, cutting off whatever it was she had intended to say. “Well, maybe I did pull a muscle.”

“She did land from a height of a few meters onto her side.” Loki offered and was rewarded with a hiss from the woman.

“Traitor.” She seethed. “It wasn't that far.”

“You didn't know how high you were.” He smirked. “I did.” He closed his eyes, listening to the healer shuffle a few things. 

“Healer Perna, make sure these two mischief makers stay in bed until it's time for them to get ready for dinner.” Father's voice was only slightly icy. “I will send word to have the servants bring them lunch shortly.”

“Yes, your majesty.” The woman replied and Loki opened his eyes as he heard the footsteps retreating and then, Sif tucked into bed next to him. “It'll be easier to keep an eye on the both of you if you're together.” She narrowed her eyes. “Lunch and then a nap for the pair of you. Sneaking off before the sun had fully risen, it's a wonder you're not asleep already.” She shook her head and went back to her desk.

Sif gave him a look. “she just trusts the two of us in a bed like this?”

Loki snorted and hugged his pillow, the salve on his leg already starting to work. “I'm not one for exhibition, and I have a feeling you aren't either.” He yawned. “I think I may skip lunch and sleep instead.” He closed his eyes and a moment later, felt her set her head between his shoulder blades, an arm draped over his side. 

“Not to mention I think we've caused enough trouble for one day.” She chuckled. “I may have told my father about your proposal.”

“Well, I know that by the social laws of Asgard, I should have asked him for permission first.” He sighed. “What's done is done. I suspect that's what my father and yours have gone off to discuss.” 

“I doubt my father will object.” She coughed and then tugged on his arm. “Come here, I want to to look at you.” 

He turned over, a slight pain shooting through his leg and then he opened his eyes. “Is something wrong?”

“No.” She scanned his face, a smile barely on her lips, and her hand came up, tracing the heritage lines on his face, following one of them down his neck and onto his shoulder. “I was wondering... do you have those lines... everywhere?” 

Loki gave her a leer. “The answer to that, my dear lady, is something I would rather you discover for yourself, rather than have me tell you.” He set a hand on her face and kissed her, his tongue pressing against the seam of her lips. When they parted, he slipped his tongue inside, brushing it against hers. Sif tasted of honey and tea, and much as he would have enjoyed kissing her the rest of the afternoon, the medication was doing it's work and he was in danger of falling asleep. He pulled away, nipping playfully on her bottom lip as he did. “One of these days we'll have to spend a few hours doing that.” 

“I think we should have dozens of days doing nothing but that.” She chuckled and then snuggled into him. “You still owe me a glaive.” 

“The materials will be sent off to Nidavellir before the week is out. Although it may not be ready for you right away. I may have to give it to you for a wedding present.” He wrapped an arm around her, letting himself relax.

“One might argue that without one, I'll stay out of trouble. I know my mother would.” She shuddered. “She's going to be revolting when she finds out about the engagement.”

“She's not going to be demanding grandchildren, is she?” Loki covered a yawn. “Because we're too young for that.” 

“If she wants something to fuss over, we'll get her a puppy.” Sif quipped, before yawning herself. 

*  
Tyr had not brought his daughter to Jotunheim with the idea that she would end up getting engaged. His whole purpose in bringing her with him was to her mind off Thor Odinson, who, in his opinion, did not deserve to have Sif for his friend. She had been carrying a torch for the prince for decades, if not centuries, and he wanted her to get him off of her mind for a little while. He knew that a match between his daughter the crown prince would be ill suited for both of them. Now, here she was, accepting a proposal to a completely different prince, and he didn't know what to think. “It's not that I object to the match, your majesty, I just worry that they're rushing things.”

“I understand your concerns.” Laufey shifted in his seat, tapping his fingers on the arm. “I too, am concerned at their age and their relative short acquaintance. But as Loki pointed out to me, how many marriages are arranged in which the bride and groom have never met?”

“He's an extremely clever man.” He took a drink from his tankard. “Sif has assured me that this is what she wants, but even I know that the wedding cannot be planned and take place before the winter here.” He looked over at the king, uncertain. “I do not even know if Sif could survive the temperature.”

“My good man, we do not sleep outside.” He shook his head. “Sealed within the walls of the citadel and under a pile of furs and pelts, she will be more than safe from the worst of the weather. The Sleep comes for everyone, Lord Tyr. But I understand your fear, it is only natural.” 

Tyr had trouble imagining anyone just 'falling asleep' because of some grip of the realm, but then he supposed that the jotun might have trouble imagining some of the things on Asgard as well. He wrapped his hands around his tankard. “When does the winter start? Or rather, the Sleep, as you call it?”

“The Sleep will come in two months, winter in one.” Laufey replied. “It will last a total of six weeks at its longest, and then, winter will continue for another month after that.” He took a drink from his own tankard. “Are you suggesting that your daughter remain here, after you and the rest of the delegation return to Asgard?”

“I don't think I could get Sif to leave, not for more than a week, which is about how long she'd need to gather her belongings.” He sighed. “As much as it pains me, I have to accept that she is a grown woman and not a little girl anymore. I would rather have her happy off-realm than to remain under my roof and miserable. But I believe I can insist on the week.” He looked into his tankard for a moment, then at Laufey. “Perhaps Loki could accompany her.” Tyr already knew that his wife wouldn't let Sif return to Jotunheim if he brought her back alone. Taking their future son-in-law with them, however, she would have little objection.

The king nodded slowly. “Yes. Although Loki has never been to Asgard, he is well versed in your customs.” He leaned forward, and Tyr was reminded of just how big the king was. “I will send a letter to King Odin ahead of your departure. Protocol, you understand.”

“Of course, your majesty.” He replied, a small trickle of dread at what might happen if Prince Thor suddenly raised an objection to Loki's presence. But he wasn't foolish enough to threaten the jotun prince and risk war, was he? He shook his head to clear it. “The delegation is set to leave at the end of this week, will that be too soon for your son to travel with us?”

Laufey shook his head. “I will draft the letter before dinner and have it sent to Asgard before nightfall.” He took up his tankard. “Although I do not believe we can keep the engagement secret for very long.”

Tyr took up his own. “Then I suppose it will have to be announced at dinner tonight, if permissible.” 

“Gladly.” He held his cup towards him and Tyr hit it with his own. “Damn.”

“What's wrong?” He took a drink.

“Loki's brothers are not going to be happy that he, the youngest, is getting married first.” He shrugged. “Well, my son's been looking for a way to upstage the pair of them for centuries. So I won't begrudge him in his joy.” 

*  
Baldr dismounted from his horse and walked into the observatory, yawning. “Good morning, Heimdall.” He stretched and rubbed his face. “Since I was called out here, there can't be some sort of disaster happening in the Nine, but something major must have happened.” 

“A letter for the Allfather from his majesty, King Laufey of Jotunheim.” He held out a thick scroll of parchment and the prince took it.” 

“Don't suppose you could tell me what it says.” He tapped the letter against his chin. “Can I get a hint?”

The guardian gave him what passed for a smile. “I believe there is a marriage to be announced.” He shifted his gaze back to the stars. “Lady Sif and Prince Loki have also slain a dragon.”

“What?” He gaped at the man, knowing that he wasn't lying, but at the same time, it was unbelievable. “Just – the two of them alone?” 

“Yes, your grace.” He smiled. “And it was rather surprising, how swiftly they dispatched the beast. Of course, the fact that the dragon was hungry might have had something to do with it.” 

Baldr grinned and headed back for his horse, already looking forward to watch the absolute fit Thor was going to have when he found out that there had been a dragon to hunt – and he'd not gotten to join in, and second – it'd been Sif and that dwarf son of Laufey's that had killed it. “I have a feeling it's going to be a stormy day.” He tucked the scroll into his jacket, mounted his horse and turned for home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The rest of the monarchs of the Nine Realms tend to view Odin and Thor with amused disgust.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Sif notices that Loki's not the only dwarf at court, Thor throws a tantrum, and this story finally earns its rating.

Loki could not remember when he had last seen the feasting hall in such an uproar. He also had never been so relieved to have his awkward raised table from which to watch the people; indeed, he was certain Sif may have felt the same way, as it provided some protection from the shuffle of nobles congratulating them on their kill, merchant traders thanking them for making the road to Junstanborg safe again, and warrior/hunters insisting they be told again and again how the tiny pair of the had brought down their massive (even by normal jotun standards) prey. It didn't even seem to bother anyone that the meat was still being prepared and kept back for the solstice dinner. 

“Now now, let these two eat their dinner.” His mother came over to the table and shooed everyone away, looking disgruntled. “Norns.” She turned and looked down at them. “You need to eat, as I know for a fact you both slept through lunch.” 

“Thank you.” Sif looked extremely grateful and took a hold of the rib on her plate. 

“My pleasure, dear one.” She shot a look at Loki. “You eat up as well.” She swept back to her seat.

“Your food hasn't gone cold, has it?” He asked Sif as he worked on pulling his serving of meat away from the bone.

“No, it's fine.” She took up her knife. “How have you stood being called little all these years? Half the time I can't tell if it's an insult or some sort of compliment.” 

“I've learned to take it on the chin.” He gave her a half smile. “I also don't mind it so much when it comes from a native of Jotunheim, because that's what I am here. It's when I go to other realms and people make snide remarks about my height. Although I have been mistaken for an elf, or half-elf several times.” 

“I can see where that would happen.” Sif turned her attention to her food and Loki focused on his own. It was such a novelty to him to actually have the people focused on him and not one of his brothers, that it was rather overwhelming. He also knew that it wasn't likely to end any time soon. The betrothal wouldn't be announced until the departing feast for Asgard, in a few days. The people would be eagerly awaiting his and Sif's return from Asgard one week later; and well, it was going to be a whirlwind of emotions from now until it was time for the Sleep. “It seems wrong, somehow, that you have to get permission from King Odin to be on Asgard. Were you required to get permission to go to Alfheim or Vanaheim?”

“No. I was invited to both realms, and well, relations between Jotunheim and Asgard have never been, how shall I put this...” He stared at his plate for a moment. “It's always been somewhat tense. I've never heard a clear reason for it. I think it comes down to precious metals.” He rested his head on his hand and gave her a wry smile. “I'm afraid that tradition demands I'm to supply you with at least half your weight in jewelry, most likely more, due to rank.”

Her eyes grew wide and she turned to stare at her plate. “What am I supposed to do with that much jewelry?”

“Well, you don't wear it all at once.” He chuckled and looked her over. “Perhaps lots of pretty things for your hair.”

She went slightly pink. “I don't mean to make her sound shallow, but if you talk about jewelry in front of my mother, she will love you instantly.” 

“I have found that the discussion of pretty, sparkly things will usually interest a girl greatly.” He took a few bites of his dinner, then gave her a half smile. “What is customary on Asgard?”

Sif shook her head. “Nothing that I feel we need to take part in. Considering that we slew a dragon, that sort of eliminates you killing some sort of big game and presenting it to me, to show you're a good provider. I don't need you to do anything to prove you can protect me, my father already likes you, my mother, no doubt, is going to think you're wonderful.” She ate a little of her dinner. “Although I can't promise that she won't start wanting to know about grandchildren. I'll tell her she has to wait at least a decade before she can ask.” 

“A decade is reasonable.” He took a drink from his goblet, glancing over at his brothers, both of whom looked slightly disgruntled. “Besides, I'm more than happy to let my brothers go first in that achievement.” He speared a piece of meat on his fork. “I informed both my parents, before I even met you, if they want grandchildren, they need to talk to Bindi, not me.” 

She chuckled in response and took up her own goblet. “Who's that other.. ah, the other small jotun sitting with your mother?”

Loki looked up. “That's my cousin, Jarnsaxa. Her mother is my father's younger sister.”

“No one ever suggested that the two of you ah...” Her eyebrows lifted when she saw his expression. “What?”

“We're far too close on the family tree to consider such a thing, Sif.” He shook his head. “It's marrying cousins that brought down practically every single royal house of Midgard. She's a sweet girl, but I love her like a sister.” He speared a few vegetables with his fork. “She has also known that since she was a little girl playing with dolls, that, much like myself, our greatest possible duty is to strengthen relations between realms through marriage.”

“I suppose I need to study some genealogy to better understand that.” She paused. “Are you related to the late queen Bestla?”

“Yes, she was my father's great aunt. So that makes King Odin and my father second cousins, and me, my brothers and Jarnsaxa third cousins to Baldr and Thor.” He chuckled. “It's not so confusing, considering that both the Æsir and my people tend to have small families. It's Alfheim that's infuriating. They live longer than we do yet they multiply like Midgardians.” 

Sif snorted into her goblet. “So, why haven't I seen your cousin before?”

“She's been here,” he answered. “Arna just tends to stick to her parents' shadows at feasts.” He kept his gaze on his plate. Truth was, he felt very sorry for his cousin who had never left the realm and was kept out of danger more than he was, simply because she was a _girl._ “I'll introduce you after dinner. Though I ask you not to judge her too harshly if she gets a little – silly.” 

“I won't.” She relaxed somewhat. “What's the age difference between you and her?”

“A mere twenty years.” He replied as the servants brought in more platters of food. “Although at times it seems even less.” 

**

“Thor!” Odin threw open the door of his son's chambers, borderline livid. He had longed hoped to make a match between his heir and his most decorated general's daughter, and now, all of that was dashed. He flung open the inner door to the bedroom and found his son still abed, an empty tankard lying on the floor, his hand hanging above it. Right now, the only good thing he could see was that his son was alone in his bed. “Wake up!” He barked. 

Thor groaned from under the covers and let out a few other noises. “What?”

“Get up.” The Allfather snapped. “This instant.” 

“I'm awake.” He sat up, rubbing his face. “Whatever it is, I didn't do it.”

“You are damned right you didn't do it.” He seethed. “I've just received word that Lady Sif is to marry Prince Loki of Jotunheim come spring, or rather, come autumn for us.” 

Thor looked at him, his expression blank and then he chuckled. “Sif's not marrying anyone. Let alone a prince. A good jest, Father.” 

“It is no laughing matter!” He couldn't believe his son could be so indifferent. “King Laufey has written to me asking for permission for his son to enter Asgard with Lord Tyr and his daughter.” He threw the letter into his son's lap. “Do you have any idea how this will affect the realm?”

His son scanned the letter, his face running the gauntlet of emotions from anger to disbelief. “I do not see how Sif getting married affects the realm, father.” He looked up and saw his father's expression. “What?”

“Nearly every single lord or noble of Asgard has long believed that you and Lady Sif are betrothed, or would become so. Which means that every one of their daughters of your age have become promised to someone else.” How could the boy not see the position he was in? “Not only that, such beliefs have spread to both Vanaheim and Alfheim.” He shook his head. “Thor, do you not understand that this makes the list of prospective brides for you extremely small?” 

“I'm too young to be wed.” He gave him a nervous chuckle, that promptly died in his throat. “Father?”

“You're not too young to be betrothed and it's high time you were.” He shook his head. “However, it would be a grievous act against protocol for us to announce an engagement before Laufey has.” He bristled, knowing that it was going to be a rough summer for the entire court. In that split second, Odin decided that he had had enough of Thor's boyish ways. “It's high time you finished growing up.” 

“I am of age, Father.” His son nearly pouted. “I mean...”

“Age means nothing.” He replied and then heard movement behind him. He wheeled around to see Baldr, leaning against the door to the corridor. “Stop lurking, young man.” 

“Yes, Father.” His youngest came into the room as Thor scanned the second page, his face going white. “I was merely wondering if I might be allowed to ask Prince Loki to come for a game of chess while he visits Asgard.” 

“There was a dragon hunt?” Thor shrieked. “Sif and that jotun _runt_ killed a dragon?” 

Odin watched as his son's face went from the color of milk to a full on rage. “Control...” He started to say and a moment later, his son shot out of bed and into his bathing chamber, slamming the door so hard, the room shook. 

Baldr slipped forward and picked up the missive from where it had fallen, handing it back to him. “I told you he'd be angrier about the dragon than Lady Sif.” 

The door opened again. “Shut up, Baldr!” The door shut with a crash, and there came a sound of things being thrown against the wall and shattering.

The Allfather pinched the bridge of his nose. “Go write your letter.” He waved his son off and he heard him all but run from the chamber as his eldest came back out and started to upturn furniture in the other room. “If you destroy your possessions, Thor, do not expect them to be replaced before the day is done.” This time, he was not going to relent; it was time his heir started acting like a king, and not a spoiled little brat.

*

Sif tightened her grip on her wrap, not certain if what she was doing was considering acceptable by the standards of Jotunheim. While she and Loki had done plenty of kissing, he had never brought up the subject of intimacy with her. She'd been lying in her bed, unable to find rest when she recalled that first kiss on those stairs. He'd told her that he'd been waiting for her permission to kiss her, whether if was gauche or not for him to have asked instead of her kissing him first, she didn't know. But she also knew that she wasn't going to get answers to that, or if having relations before marriage were allowed lying alone in a dark room. 

She looked down the corridor, and nearly walked right into the leg of a guard who was half-leaning against the wall. She looked up and met his gaze, and to her surprise, he straightened up, letting her pass without asking what she was doing. Hell, he probably knew.

“Second door on your right.” He muttered down to her, his expression unchanging.

She shot a look back at him, but he said nothing, his face passive and he walked towards a large window. In turn, she hurried up the corridor, almost jumping in shock as she passed a huge mirror that covered part of one wall, the door behind her was intricately carved and she didn't need to be told whose chambers were on the other side; the king and queen's. Sif wasn't certain what she was expecting when she reached the mentioned door, nor had the guard mentioned that the second door on the right was also the last door on the right. She pushed it open and found herself facing another set of stairs. “Norns.” She closed her eyes, trying to remember what the citadel looked like from the outside and had the vague memory of seeing a tower in the far back, but no details other than that. Like other stairs, there was the shallow ditch that ran along the side, but this one looked a little more worn than most she had seen. She was surprised by the abrupt stop only three turns up; and was relieved to see the strip of light around the door on the landing.

Sif readjusted her grip on her throw, closed the distance to the door and knocked. On the other side of the door, she could hear a soft noise that she couldn't place, and then a soft thud; something heavy being set down on a table. She was about to knock again when the door opened. 

Loki, dressed only in a thick robe, blinked at her, and behind him, she could see several lit lamps. “If you wanted a tour of the palace, my lady, you could have asked.” 

“I...” she gnawed on her lip. “I'm not certain why I came here.” 

His expression changed, and she knew that he didn't believe her. “You may come in.” He stepped back and she went inside, finding that on the other side of the door, Loki's chambers weren't the accommodations she'd been expecting. Instead of his chambers being several rooms all on one floor, there was another, smaller set of stairs inside, one heading up and one heading down. The one they were currently on was furnished with a long work table and shelves on one side, and she could make out a bathing chamber through a door on the other side. 

“What are you doing up so late?” She watched as he shut the door and went back to his work table. 

“I couldn't sleep. The nap I had this afternoon has left me too well rested.” He frowned at the contents of the mortar. “So I've been working on getting my apothecary supplies adjusted to the climate.” He gave her a look. “Would you like something to drink?” He nodded to the bottle and a goblet sitting near the end of the table. 

Sif came over and poured some of the wine into the goblet; it would be good to have something to hold. “I... well...” she took a too large sip of the drink and nearly dropped the glass. Whatever the wine was, it was strong and warmed her straight to her toes. “Damn.” 

“I know.” He took a small sip from his own glass. “I'm afraid that you will find that I am rather... possessive when it comes to things like wine.” He came over to her, a predatory look evident in his eyes. When he drew level with her, it suddenly dawned on her that he was several inches taller than her; she'd never noticed the difference when she'd been wearing boots. “Now, why don't you tell me what you're doing, sneaking up here to my chambers in the middle of the night?” He took her face in his hands and kissed her, and in shock, she let go of the wrap, her hands going to his shoulders. 

When he pulled away, she took a few breaths, and found that his eyes were blazing. “I'm... I don't want to ah...” She swallowed. “Is it _wrong_ of me to be here?” 

He kissed the top of her head, his hands slipping down to her shoulders. “No, my lady.” He rubbed her arms. “You must be cold.” his voice had lowered several octaves, and she shivered slightly as she leaned against his collarbone and his hands slid off of her arms and onto her back. “Would you like me to build you a fire?” His nose trailed down the side of her face, sending another shiver through her. It became worse when the tip of his tongue traced her ear. “Or would you rather us retire to my bed and let our passion serve as the heat your body is craving?”

Sif let out a tiny gasp. While she wasn't a virgin, she was far from experienced when it came to sex. Her encounters had been brief, hurried couplings that usually left her feeling conflicted, more than sated. She swallowed, trying to clear her head. “I'm not, that is to say...” 

Loki stepped back and took her hand in his, kissing each fingertip before sucking on it – and damned if it didn't cause her more frustration. “Are you innocent, my lady?” He held her index finger against his lips. “Or is it something else?”

“No, it's not that...” She took a breath. “I am no maiden, but ah...it's never been... I don't think any of my past lovers have ah... it's not ever felt the way I thought it would.” She went pink. “If that makes sense.”

“Then you have only known silly, fumbling boys.” He went back to kissing her hand, his nose slipping down her palm and he placed a reverent kiss on her wrist. “And you stumble over words relating to sex.” His smile became more of a smirk as she blushed. “am I correct?”

“You're awful.” She hissed as he took her other hand and gave it the same treatment as the first. The heat pooling between her legs was starting to become unbearable. Part of her was thriving on his teasing, the other part just wanted to get on with it. “I just...” she went pink. “I suppose that for all intents and purposes, I may as well be a virgin.” 

“Sif.” He pressed his lips to hers, his tongue running along her mouth. “So bold in public, so timid in private.” 

She let out a weak chuckle. “And you're exactly the opposite, Loki.” 

“Indeed I am.” He picked her up without warning, and it seemed a mere moment later she found herself lying on a mound of furs, his mouth working hers open to claim it. She slid her fingers into his hair as their tongues dueled, the taste of the wine still lingering between them. He pulled away and bit her bottom lip, before trailing his mouth onto her neck, nipping gently at her flesh, his hands and his hands were on her hips, bunching up the skirt of her nightdress. “Look at me.” His face was hovering above hers, his breath heavy against her skin. 

She met his eyes, concerned. “What... what is it?” 

“If at any point you want me to stop, tell me. I will not do anything you do not wish me to.” His expression turned tender and then she felt his hand slide between her legs and one of his cool fingers slip through her folds and he let out a hiss. “You're soaking.” The digit slipped inside and she whimpered at the contact, her arms falling to her sides as he brushed against something that made her head spin. “I believe you have been quite neglected, my darling.” He ran his finger over the spot again, and Sif nearly bolted upright.

“Please...” She took a deep breath. “Don't tease.” 

In response, he drew his hand away from her mound, waving the other over her, causing her clothes to dissolve. The rush of cold air on her bare skin was immediate and she began to shiver. “Do not despair, I shall have you warm soon.” His fingertips skimmed over her nipples, and in the shadow cast on the wall above them, Sif watched as Loki moved down the bed, and felt the soft fur of his robe brush against her thighs.

“What are you...” Sif's words became a shrill cry as Loki's mouth began to plunder womanhood, his tongue brushing over that spot inside of her again and again. It was like nothing she had ever experienced before and the cold of the room seemed to fade away as the heat within her started to build. 

One of her legs hung over his shoulder, and she dug the foot of the other into the mattress, struggling to ground herself. One of his arms wrapped around her thigh, the other was supporting his weight on the bed. Loki pulled away to tease another sensitive spot nestled between her folds, worrying it with his teeth and she felt her toes curl. She'd heard plenty of women talk about taking a man's cock into their mouths, but never had she imagined that a man would pleasure a woman the way that Loki currently was. She let out another gasp as his tongue slipped and out of her. His tongue licked up her folds, before worrying that sensitive nub with his teeth, then began tormenting her with his tongue again. 

She cried out something; she didn't know what, all she could feel was an intense pleasure ripping through her entire body; that sensation that had always eluded her in the past, it was now threatening to drown her and Sif barely registered the trail of open mouth kisses Loki was giving her as he moved back up her body. She whimpered as his tongue slid over one of her stiff nipples, then finally, felt her mind come back to her. “Loki...”

His face hovered above her, a wicked grin on his face. “You have the most delicious quim, my lady.” He kissed her neck. “Are you all right?”

“I'm...I'm fine.” She took a few deep breaths, trying to focus, and found it next to impossible.

Loki placed a gentle kiss on her forehead and lowered her leg back down to the bed, and laid down next to her, brushing her hair from her face. “I hope so, I did not expect you to scream.”

“Is that bad?” She felt herself blush. “I'm sorry, it's just....” 

“You don't like being such a novice.” He kissed her neck again. “It makes you feel vulnerable.” 

“Can you blame me?” Sif hid her face in the pillow. “I just...” She felt his hand brush her hair aside.

“Well, my brave shield-maiden, how did you become so adept with your weapons?” His hand moved down and cupped her breast, his thumb rubbing her nipple.

“Practice. Hard work.” She wrinkled her nose. “How else?”

He chuckled. “Good. Then you understand what you must do in order to not feel so...” Loki lowered his face until their noses were almost touching. “Innocent.” 

She let out a nervous laugh. “I should warn you, I've been told that I'm an extremely stubborn student.”

“And I can be quite the demanding teacher.” He pulled away and undid the belt of his robe, removing the garment and tossing it to the floor. She swept her gaze down his front, almost gasping when she caught sight of his cock, heavy and thick between his legs, the head nearly level with his navel. 

Sif swallowed, her eyes darting back to his. “I see you do have some giant traits.” 

He laughed and rose up over her on his arms, and she could feel him, cold and hard gently nudging between her thighs. “We have a long path before us, my lady. For tonight, we shall simply be.” He kissed her again.

She returning the kiss, wrapping her arms under his, spreading her legs a little wider, and she felt the head of his cock brush against her entrance, then, with a gentle thrust, he was inside, she let out a whimper as he did.

He broke the kiss, gasping. “Oh, you are tight.” He smiled down at her. “Are you certain that this is not your first time?” He pulled out slightly, then moved back in, letting her body adjust to his considerable girth.

Sif shook her head as he continued to gently thrust in and out of her, his cock just barely entering her before retreating. “It...it's been a while.” She groaned. “You're also quite...ah...” She tightened her grip on his shoulders as her body yielded even more to him. “Massive.” She gulped.

He pushed deeper into her quim, spreading her slowly and chuckling. “I'm not hurting you, am I?”

She shook her head again, it was easier to do that than try and find the words that were rapidly failing her and she grunted as he withdrew and then returned. “Oh...” She wrapped one leg around his waist as he sunk deeper. “Ah...” Her head fell back against the pillows, digging her nails into her lover's back as he filled her. It wasn't just the fact that Loki was by far the most well endowed of her partners, it was also the shocking feeling that instead of heat, he entered her cold, the contrast making her shiver.

“You're so warm, pet.” Loki rocked his hips against her slowly, moving deeper. “Hot and tight and amazing.” He nuzzled her neck, starting a slow rhythm against her hips, and her body started to move in time with his. “That's it, darling. Just like that.” He rolled them onto their sides, clutching her thigh with his hand as they moved against each other. The change in angle drove him deeper with each thrust, and after a particularly sharp one, he stopped, his breath against her ear. “We're completely joined, my lady.” His voice was ragged, as if he were holding back; which, even with her pleasure-addled mind realized that he probably _was._

She rubbed her cheek against his and pressed a kiss against the corner of his mouth. _“Please.”_ It was the only word she could get out, the only one that came to mind, and she didn't even know if he'd understand what she was wanted. In the next instant, however, she found that Loki knew exactly what that 'please' meant. He covered her mouth with his, kissing her deeply as he began to drive his cock in and out of her, swallowing her cries of pleasure as he took her. The world shifted to a haze of nothing but the sound of sweat-slick skin against each other, her muffled cries, and the unimaginable and formerly never attained pleasure that consumed her. Not merely once, but several times, each one starting to build on the heels of the former. 

Sif's head fell back and she let out a soundless gasp as Loki thrust deeply into her as she came for the fifth time, and then felt him release for the first, another burst of cold that shot up into her as he filled her womb with his seed, his cock throbbing within her, and she could hear his ragged breathing next to her ear. He mumbled something her mind couldn't make out; she was too overwhelmed by sensation and exhaustion. She just wanted to sleep. His fingers brushed her belly, and there was a tiny twinge that went through her, but it barely registered as he withdrew from her, leaving her with a rather sad feeling of emptiness.

She was only vaguely aware when the lamps fell dark and Loki covered her with several pelts, before settling down next to her, drawing her into his arms and resting her head against his chest. She snuggled against him, his skin still cool to the touch, despite the passion they had shared. One of her hands was held in his, with the other resting on the small of her back. “Good night.” She mumbled. It was her first coherent words since they had gotten into this bed.

“Good night.” Loki replied, sleepily, and together, they drifted off to slumber.


	5. Chapter 5

Loki had left the change clothes for Sif on a stool in the washroom, and took her discarded slippers upstairs to where she was still asleep in his bed. He stood in the doorway, watching the woman as she continued to doze, her hair splayed out on a pillow, the only completely visible part of her was a hand. The garments had shown up on his table downstairs with their breakfast; and he wasn't certain who'd informed the servants where Sif currently was; he never wanted to try and unravel that communication network for risk of it falling apart. He also didn't need that kind of headache.

Last night, he'd been surprised when she came to his door; and while he'd had plenty of fantasies about the pair of them in his bed, he never expected to indulge in them before they were married. For an engaged couple to have carnal relations before the wedding wasn't frowned on; Norns knew there had been plenty of weddings that were shortly followed by the birth of the couple's first child. He'd cast the spell to prevent pregnancy last night out of habit; it was an easier thing to do than mess with preventative tea, which researchers on Vanaheim were starting to believe was a strong factor in the low birth rates among the Vanir and the Æsir. Jotuns were naturally fertile; hence the reason the spell was necessary. 

Sif made a groaning noise from under the covers and then her head came out from under the pelt of a wolf, looking confused. “Where...” She turned and saw him, and promptly blushed.

“Good morning, sleepy-head.” He came over and sat down by her, giving her a gentle kiss. 

“Morning.” She pulled herself to a sit, holding the pelt to her collarbone. “What time is it?”

“Sometime between the ninth and tenth bell.” He replied, then handed her his robe. “Do you want to take a bath first or eat breakfast?”

“Breakfast.” She replied as she pulled the robe on, her hands almost lost in the sleeves. “How long have you been up?”

“Around an hour.” He handed her the slippers. “I found these down in the main room. I don't remember if I lifted you out of them or if they fell off.”

She blushed rather deeply as she pulled the shoes on. “I don't even remember how I got up here, so I'm afraid I don't know either.” She rose from the bed and he led her down the stairs. “Actually, I don't remember much between leaving my room and us falling into your bed.” 

He held out a chair for her. “I confess, I have a bit of trouble recalling the time between coming to my chambers last night and your arrival.” He took the lid off the salver in the middle of the table. “Ah, still nice and hot.” He set a bowl of porridge in front of her before sitting down and taking his own, setting the platter of sausages between them. 

“Where on Jotunheim is the grain grown?” Sif took up the jar of preserves and put a spoonful on her breakfast. 

“On the southern coast.” He replied. “Most crops are grown there, due to the warmer climate.” He drizzled honey on his own bowl. “It's inhabited by a different species of jotun, the storm giants, who can survive the higher temperatures. The weather there is similar to Asgard's spring.” 

“But I take it they're still subject to the Sleep?” She swirled her breakfast together. “And I'm sorry, that still unnerves me a little.”

“The Sleep isn't as long. It only lasts a month.” He speared a sausage on a fork. “And before you ask, no, we do not worry about an attack on the realm during that time. The nearest galactic neighbors we have are Veloxx, and they're still in the age of horsepower.”

She ate a few bites of porridge. “What about from further out in space? Such as the Kree?” 

He snickered. “We're not on the Kree's radar currently, and we plan on keeping it that way. We don't have any technology that they would want, and they also don't value gemstones or precious metals.”

She took a sausage from the platter. “They do understand that currency is worthless without something to back it up, correct?”

“They do. But they are also up to their eyeballs in battling Xandar at the moment, and really if they were going to go after any of the Nine, they'd start with the easiest and least populated. That would be Svartalfheim.” Loki bit into his meat, not really tasting it. 

Sif adjusted the collar of his robe, glancing around the room, which, Loki admitted, was a lot better looking during the day when sunlight was streaming through the windows then it did at night. “I take it we will share this tower when we are wed?”

He looked up, frowning. “Is it not common for a husband and wife to share chambers on Asgard?”

She gnawed on her lip. “Well...” She quickly poured herself a cup of tea, and he could see her hand trembling slightly. “They do share chambers, it's just, I've never had to share a chamber...” She looked into her mug, holding it with both of her hands. 

“If you'd like to take a look around this morning, you're more than welcome.” He took up his spoon, swirling it through his bowl. “I will need to move things around to make room for your possessions.”

She frowned. “Won't anyone wonder where we are?”

“I seriously doubt it.” He paused, “your father isn't going to come up here and challenge me to a duel, or something, is he?”

She choked on her tea. “No. Considering that we are betrothed, and since we were so before I came here last night, it's not...” she went pink. “Forgive me if this sounds, wrong – but as I am in your room, it's far less objectionable than if you were found in mine.” 

He smirked over the rip of his cup. “You and your cute, quaint little protocol worries.” He wasn't surprised when she slugged him in the shoulder a moment later and he nearly fell out of his chair. “All right, I deserved that.”

Sif remained pink as she ate some more of her breakfast. “You and your insufferable teasing.” She retorted.

“I'll only do it in private.” He leaned over and kissed her cheek, resisting the urge to what he really wanted to do, which was pull her into his lap and kiss her elsewhere. He stabbed another sausage after pulling back into his seat. “I'll show you around after you've bathed.” 

“How many floors are there to this tower?” She ate more of her porridge.

“Six. The bedchamber is on top, followed by the library and study. We're currently on the third floor, which passes for the, for lack of a better term, the parlor.” He looked around the room, at the couch and chairs, the low table in front of them, to the table with six chairs were they were currently sitting. All perfectly sized for someone of his height; not so for any 'normal' sized jotun.“As you can see, I don't have guests very often.” 

Sif set her mug down. “I find it rather... sad that you have more or less been tucked away in a tower like a.... like...”

“Like some little princess, I don't mind.” He chuckled. “It's not so bad. I'm used to it.” He shrugged. “It was actually sort of fun, when I was a child. Jarnsaxa and I used to spend our free hours while others were at combat training scheming up a few.... harmless pranks.” 

She smirked. “I'll bet you did.” 

“Oh, come on, putting the laughing elixir into the soup wasn't terrible.” He grinned at the memory. “There were no visiting nobles from off-realm present.” 

She wagged her spoon at him, her face going pink with repressed mirth. “Do not tell Prince Baldr about that, or he'll do the same.”

“And they'll trace it to me, _how_?” He finished off his sausage. “Besides, from what I've been told, there's no one more loved and more valued on Asgard than Prince Baldr Odinson.” 

“He's also the biggest prankster in the nine realms.” She gave him an uneasy look. “I don't know if the two of you should be left alone together while we're in Asgard.”

“If you'd like to chaperone, Sif, I will not object.” He chuckled went back to eating his porridge.

**

Astrid had not expected any interesting news to come from her husband and Sif while they were on Jotunheim. When she received word that her daughter was betrothed to one of the princes, however, she promptly canceled all of her engagements on Vanaheim, packed her bags, and returned home to Asgard to start doing what she had been longing to do for centuries: planning her daughter's wedding. She would talk with Queen Araja about the actual needed garments and for the ceremony – but she knew just where she needed to start – her daughter needed a tourasseu trunk.

Srodut was the finest trunk maker in Asgard, and while most mothers had their daughter's trunks especially made, Astrid wasn't going to put her daughter's name on the twenty-five year long waiting list. When she stepped into the shop, the fine smell of polished wood and another, slightly singed odor that came from inlay and engraving hung heavy in the air. 

“Good morning!” One of the craftsmen came out from behind a curtain that hid the workshop form the sales floor. “Lady Tyr, this is quite the surprise.” 

She gave him a pleasant smile. “Lars Ilgason, correct?”

The man nodded, wiping his hands on his apron. “Yes. How may I help you today?”

“I am in need of a trunk that can withstand the cold.” She glanced around at the assortment, but was baffled by most of them. There were ones with rounded lids, some with flat, some bound in iron, others in leather. “And able to absorb enchantments.” 

“Cold?” He came around the counter. “There's different degrees of that, my lady.” He led her over to a collection of wood and brass trunks. “Is this North Vanaheim cold, South Alfheim...”

“Jotunheim.” She replied, without hesitation. “Utgard, to be exact.” 

Lars blinked at her, only for a few moments. “Yes. Well.” He scanned the group before him. “Brass won't do then, or any external metal bindings.” 

She ran her fingers over a rather pretty trunk the color of honey, with green wood inlaid in the lid in a leaf motif, with bright blue flowers. “This is quite nice.” She looked inside and found a divided shelf set into it. 

“That trunk will survive practically anything. It comes with the standard fire-proofing, and is airtight as well.” He ran his hand along the rim, looking rather proud. “Unfortunately, it's made of Vanir Cedar, making it impossible to expand with seidr.” He sighed. 

She lifted the shelf and looked into the expanse, smiling at the sunny-colored wood. “It's perfect. It can take on a lightening charm, yes?”

“Those are standard on all our trunks, Lady Tyr.” He replied. 

“How much?” She shut the trunk lid, giving him a stern look. 

Lars looked the trunk over. “Fifty silver, with standard charms included.”

“And the standard charms?” She lifted her chin.

“Fire proofing, airtight, and water-repelling. The last will also serve as protection from the cold.” He answered.

She ran her fingers over lid, smiling. “Can you have it delivered to my home by tomorrow morning?”

“Of course.” The man gave a half bow. “A fine purchase, my lady.” He cleared his throat. “I thought that Lord Tyr would be home from Jotunheim by week's end, we can have it to your home earlier, if needed.”

“Oh, this trunk isn't for me.” She smiled, “It's for my daughter.” 

**

Frigga was not as upset as Odin was on the news that Lady Sif was to be married to Prince Loki. Quite honestly, she envied the girl in her freedom of actually having a choice. She also didn't trust her husband to find a suitable wife for Thor. She'd seen the simpering, vain, and quite honestly, selfish ladies he'd spent time with, each one more silly and vapid than the last. None of them were suitable for the task of being Queen of Asgard. Then again, Thor seemed to forget that it was well within Odin's power to chose Baldr over him as the next king. 

Some days she wished her husband would.

She settled down at her loom, wrapping the green wool around the shuttle, humming to herself as her husband came into the room, muttering to himself. “Good afternoon.” 

“Have you seen Thor?” He replied, instead of the usual greeting.

“I believe he has gone off for a ride and a good long sulk.” She shoot him a look. “And yes, I have told the servants to leave his furniture where it is.” She adjusted her loom and then swept her shuttle through the taut cream-colored strands. “Well, they've cleaned up the debris, but other than that, Thor's chambers remain as he left them.”

“He's been gone for two days.” Odin came over and sat near her, frowning. “He's not been seen for two days.” 

Frigga resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “He's taken off before, husband. This time is no different.”

“I've been too indulgent.” He remarked, more to his shoes than to her.

She stopped herself before she could issue a retort. “Then ground him when he returns. Take away his privileges, deny him liquor.” She reversed the taut threads and returned the shuttle to the other side. “The only way you will get through to him is to be harsh.”

He looked up at her, his face drawn. “How is it that he is so willful and Baldr is not?”

“Baldr took the loss of Hodr very hard. Even if they were only a score of years at his twin's death. He has spent more time with books than blades.” She rested her hands on the loom. “I also think that Thor finds it easier to act childish than like an adult.”

“Perhaps.” Odin stood and began to pace. “I did, however, count on him knowing that his best possible match was Lady Sif.”

“No, she was no match for him. She would never have been happy with Thor, she only thought she would be.” She resumed her weaving. “He was never kind to her. Not as he should have been, if he dared to call her a friend.”

He shook his head. “It leaves him with few prospects. None of the ladies of his recent acquaintance are of suitable rank or disposition.” 

Frigga repressed a snort. It seemed as if her husband had suddenly woken up to the state of his family and couldn't believe he'd not seen it sooner. “So we shall have to look off-realm. It's nothing new, Odin.”

“I know that, Frigga.” He turned and then lifted his chin. “That is why I included a second letter to King Laufey when I wrote to give Prince Loki permission to come to Asgard.”

She turned from her loom and stared at him. “You cannot possibly think...”

“Princess Jarnsaxa is of age. I merely wrote to inquire if she is betrothed.” He lifted his chin. “It is a first step.”

“That girl has been hidden away and kept safe.” She couldn't believe what she was hearing. “She wouldn't know a thing about court life here on Asgard, she wouldn't....”

“We do not know that, Frigga. It is also not uncommon for princesses to spend time in other courts. If the response is favorable, then we shall arrange for her to visit after Prince Loki and Lady Sif's wedding, so her cousin may serve as a chaperone.” He looked rather pleased with himself. 

“And you believe Thor will mature enough over the summer to be civil with her?” She clenched her hand. “He has never looked favorably upon the jotun, you know that.” 

“It is time he learned that Asgard is not the only realm that matters!” He barked, his face going red.

“Do not yell at me, Odin Borrson!” She rose to her feet, angry. “I tried to curtail our son's selfish ways but they were constantly thwarted! Mainly by you!” She screamed. “I agree that it's high time he grew up, just as it's time you realized where the blame should be placed!”

“Excuse me.” Baldr let out a cough and they both turned to see him standing in the doorway. “Thor's home. Or rather, Sir Fandral and Sir Hogun are half-dragging him to bed home.” 

“Thank you Baldr.” Frigga struggled to regain her composure. “Why don't you ah...”

“I'm going to run along to the library.” He gave them both a half-smile. “Aunt Njörun just got back from Midgard with seven trunks worth of books.” He frowned. “I hope she got the rest of the books in that _Narnia_ series. Need to find out what happened to King Caspian.” He shook his head and went up the corridor. 

“We can trust Fandral and Hogun not to leave Thor in his own vomit.” Odin shook his head. “Although it might do him a world of good to wake up that way once or twice.” 

In response, Frigga covered her face with her hand, shaking her head. It was going to be a very long summer.

**

The last few days in Jotunheim passed by in a whirlwind of activity. Sif felt that she rose from her bed mere minutes after falling into it. Queen Araja had taken her for walks through the palace, finding furniture in disused rooms that would be taken to the Tower, and while she'd tried to argue that she didn't need all that much; all she wanted was a wardrobe and perhaps a soft chair to curl up and read in, her future mother-in-law insisted on a chest of drawers and a vanity as well. She also found herself being measured for garments, something she was certain would happen once she was home as well, then there were what she liked to call 'pre-wedding' plans, most of which she couldn't quite fathom. 

Asgardian weddings consisted of saying your vows in front of the magistrate and at least, two witnesses. 

Jotunheim, it transpired, was far more ceremony driven and would take place in four parts: first, she and Loki would have a hands-fasting in the temple, then, they would have a similar ceremony to Asgard in the center of Utgard. Third, they would have to feed each other at the wedding feast – and while the feast was occurring, they were to attempt to escape the festivities to perform the fourth part of the wedding. They would have to be 'caught' twice before being allowed to leave the feast and retreat to their room to consummate their vows. 

Personally, in her mind, given the fact that she and Loki had already had sex, this was a moot point. But like she was going to refuse to do that part of the ceremony after how amazing the first time had been. There was also the fact that they weren't expected to show their faces until sunset the following day. 

Tomorrow, they would leave for Asgard, but tonight, the betrothal would be made official. Sif sank down to her chin in the warm, scented bathwater, glancing over at the fire. Loki had been in the room while she was gone; the flames were dancing again. He stated that he would be putting enchanted fire cauldrons in the tower for her benefit. She told him, rather saucily, that he needn't put one in the bedroom to which he replied that he hadn't been planning on it. 

A sharp knock caused her to sit up, somewhat alarmed. “Who is it?” She called, her hand already going for a towel.

“It's Arna, Sif.” the voice replied and then the door slid open slightly. “May I come in?”

She nodded and the young woman slipped into the room, shutting the door with her rear. “I hate these doors sometimes.” She came over towards the bath, in her hands was a wooden box. “I didn't mean to disturb your bath.” She blushed; her cheeks turning bright.

Sif had long stopped being modest about being naked in front of other women. “It's fine.” She sank back down under the water, the bubbles covering most of her nudity. “I could also use some company.” 

The younger woman smiled and sat down on one of the chairs, setting the box on the table next to her. “Are you looking forward to going back to Asgard?”

“I suppose. I mean, I am looking forward to seeing my mother, but at the same time, I'll have to pack up and come right back.” She sighed. “Of course, after winter and the wedding, Loki and I will have to go to Asgard for a while.” She gave her a half smile. “As my father says, we can't stay here all the time.” She grabbed a towel, pulling the plug out of the tub before wrapping it around her. 

Jarnsaxa gave her a small smile. “Are you nervous?”

“About tonight? It can't be any worse than the night after Loki and I killed the dragon.” She tugged on her robe, then came and sat down. “I'm going to take a wild guess and you're here to ah...get me properly dressed for the feast.” 

“Well, I've always found that my hair looks better when someone else does it.” She chuckled and went and got the hairbrush from the vanity. “You mind?” She held it up.

“No.” Sif shook her head and remained still while the girl undid her ponytail and began to her hair. “I have a feeling that half of Jotunheim already know about Loki and I.” She closed her eyes, enjoying the feeling of having someone else brush her hair. Why did it always feel nicer when someone other than her did it?

“I know half the court does.” She answered, running her hand behind the brush. “Your hair doesn't curl, does it?”

“Only with an iron and lots of gel.” She chuckled. “Not to mention when I do curl it, in the morning, I have a rat's nest for hair.” 

“I can imagine.” She separated Sif's hair into three sections, putting two of them over her shoulders. “I've never been able to get curl in my hair. Mother says that it's the hair composition that prevents it.”

“I suspect that most girls with curls wish their hair hung strait like ours.” She rubbed her eyes and then opened the box that was sitting on the table. “Norns.” She gasped at the sight of the three platinum strands augmented with sapphires, and several similarly styled hairpins. “I don't even know...” She fell silent as Jarnsaxa took up the shortest of the strands and started to braid the hair still hanging behind her back. 

“There's just one simple rule in regards to jewelry, Sif.” She twisted the braid into a bun and set it with a pin. “Never wear more than the queen. The only exception to this rule, which will take place tonight, is if you are a guest of honor.” 

Sif took a deep breath as the girl's cool fingers brushed against her temple and started to braid another section of her hair. “It wasn't that way after Loki and I's hunt.” She wanted to shake her head, but didn't dare, for fear she'd mess up Arna's work. 

“That's because when that happened, it was unexpected. There's not many in the court who don't know about the engagement already, tonight it's just made official.” She coughed. “Excuse me.” 

“You're not sick, are you? Or is it a little too warm in my room?” Sif ran the sash of her robe through her hands, a nervous feeling starting in the pit of her stomach. It'd been almost easy after the hunt to have all those people talking to her; she had been in her element. It was also the first time she could recall being made the center of attention due to a hunt. This, however, was completely different. 

“Just clearing my throat.” She wrapped the braid around the first and set another pin in to hold it, before spreading the braid out a little to relieve some of the tightness and to make it look fuller. “Well, dragon is on the menu for tonight.” 

She went slightly pink. “I don't think I've ever actually eaten dragon.” 

“Then you're in for a treat.” She started to braid the remainder of Sif's hair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All right, don't panic, this isn't the 'official' end of this story. I need to work on the rest of my prompts for HC_Bingo, this is where the story ends for the prompt it's for and it will continue, just not until I'm done with the rest of the prompts and update a few other stories. Thank you for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> Thor, Loki and Sif are all equal to 19 years of age.  
> Baldr is equal to 14 years of age.  
> Helbindi is equal to 25.  
> Skilgar - a sea dwelling mammal on Jotunheim, similar to a manatee. (except they aren't endangered.)


End file.
